THE  LIBRARY 


OF 


THE 


UNIVERSITY 
CALIFORNIA 
LOS  ANGELES 


OF 


POEMS 


WILLIAM   RAINES  LYTLE. 


EDITED,   WITH    MEMOIR, 
UY 

WILLIAM    H.   VENABLE. 


"  The  Poet  could  not  sing  the  Heroic  Warrior,  unless  he  himself  were 
at  least  a  Heroic  Warrior  too.  I  fancy  there  is  in  him  the  Politician, 
the  Thinker,  Legislator,  Philosopher; — in  one  or  the  other  degree  he 
could  have  been,  he  is  all  these." — Thomas  Carlyle. 


CINCINNATI: 

THE  ROBEUT  CLARKE  COMPANY. 
1894. 


COPYRIGHT,  1894, 
BY  THE  ROBERT  CLARKE  COMPANY. 


PS 

%:a 
LI* 


IS  DEDICATKD  TO  THE 

MEMORY  OF  A  BELOVED  SISTER, 

MRS.    ELIZABETH    HAINES    BROADWELL, 

With  the  hope  that  in  its  accomplishment 
her  cherished  wish  has  been  fulfilled. 

J.  R.  F. 


759142 


CONTENTS. 


WM.  HAINES  LYTLE;  MEMOIR,            .        .  i 

POEMS. 

Antony  and  Cleopatra,           ....  61 

Popocatapetl,      ........  64 

Brigand's  Song, 67 

Sailing  on  the  Sea,             70 

Anacreontic, 72 

Jacqueline, -74 

A  Fragment, 76 

Macdonald's  Drummer, 77 

The  Volunteers, 81 

A  Midsummer-Day's  Dream,  .        .        .         -84 

Lines  to  Miss , 86 

Lines  in  an  Album,   ........  88 

The  Sweet  May  Moon,          ...  .89 

In  Camp, 90 

'T  is  Not  the  Time, 91 

When  the  Long  Shadows, 93 

The  Merry  Days  of  Eld, 95 

Lines  to  Miss  E , 98 

The  Haunted  River, 99 

Faded  Flowers, 100 

(v) 


VI  CONTENTS. 

Two  Years  Ago, 101 

A  Valentine,  .......        103 

Love  and  Time,          .         .         .         .         .         .         .104 

Lines  Suggested  on  the  Death  of  Gen.  T.  L.  Hamer,  105 

A  Serenade 107 

Song  of  the  Lightning, 108 

Omens, in 

My  Thirty-sixth  Birthday, 113 

To  My  Sisters, 115 

'T  is  Only  Once  We  Love,  .         .         .  117 

The  Siege  of  Chapultepec.        .         .         .         .        .119 

The  Soldier's  Dream, 121 

The  Farmer, 124 

Hunting  Song, •       126 

Song  of  the  Ragged  Attorney,         .         .         .        .128 
The  Farewell, 131 


General  Ly tie's  Last  Speech,  .        .        •        .133 

Company  K.     A  Poem 144 

Last  Marching  Order, 147 

Last  Marching  Order  to  Brigade  in  fac-simile,      148-9 
Extracts  from  Official  Reports,  .         .         .          150 


WILLIAM  HAINES   LYTLE. 


In  the  Appendix  to  his  Geography  and  History 
of  the  Western  States,  published  in  Cincinnati  in 
1828,  Timothy  Flint  gives  a  personal  narrative 
from  the  pen  of  General  Lytle,  whom  he  describes 
as  "a  distinguished  and  respectable  citizen  of  the 
State  of  Ohio,  who  has  been  in  that  country  from 
the  beginning,  and  who  probably  has  seen  as  much 
of  its  progress  as  any  other  man  in  it." 

The  narrative,  fresh  and  suggestive  in  style,  re 
plete  with  interest,  relates  how  its  writer,  a  lad 
nine  years  old,  came  with  his  father,  in  1779,  from 
Pennsylvania  to  the  West,  descending  the  Ohio, 
in  the  spring  of  1780,  in  one  of  sixty-three  large 
arks,  or  Kentucky  boats,  some  of  which  were 
occupied  by  families,  others  by  young  men  in 
tending  to  explore  the  country.  "  The  number  of 
fighting  men  on  board,"  says  Lytle,  "was  nearly 
a  thousand."  "My  father,"  he  continues,  "had 


2  WILLIAM  HAINES  LYTLE. 

been  a  practiced  soldier  in  the  former  wars  of  the 
country,  and  had  been  stationed,  as  such,  three 
years  at  Pittsburgh.  He  was,  of  course,  versed 
in  the  modes,  requisites  and  stratagems  of  Indian 
warfare." 

On  the  1 2th  of  April  the  fleet  halted  at  the 
mouth  of  the  Licking,  and  discovered  an  Indian 
encampment  on  the  Ohio  shore  opposite.  A 
considerable  force  crossed  the  river  and  the  In 
dians  fled.  The  boy  Lytle  was  among  the  sol 
diers  on  this  occasion.  Fifty-one  years  later 
General  Lytle  died  in  his  own  house  which  was 
built  near  this  scene  of  his  youthful  venture 
against  the  Indians. 

The  two  Lytles,  father  and  son,  both  named 
William,  are  distinguished  from  each  other  in  our 
early  histories  by  their  military  titles,  the  elder 
holding  the  rank  of  colonel,  the  younger  that  of 
general.  The  family  stock  is  of  Irish  origin. 
Colonel  William  Lytle  was  commissioned  captain 
by  Governor  Morris,  of  Pennsylvania,  in  the  year 
1750,  and  he  served  in  the  old  French  and  Indian 
War. 

General  William  Lytle,  like  his  father,  became 
a  famous  Indian  fighter  and  pioneer.  At  the  age 


ROBERT   TODD    LYTLE.  6 

of  fifteen  he  was  put  in  command  of  a  war  party 
under  the  direction  of  the  adventurous  Daniel 
Boone.  In  the  war  of  1812,  he  was  major-gen 
eral  of  Ohio  militia,  and  in  1828,  President  An 
drew  Jackson  appointed  him  surveyor-general  of 
the  public  lands  of  Ohio,  Indiana,  and  Michigan. 
He  was  founder  of  Lytletown,  now  Williamsburg, 
Clermont  county,  Ohio,  from  which  village  he 
removed  to  Cincinnati,  where  he  died  in  1831. 

General  Robert  Todd  Lytle,  third  son  of  Gen 
eral  William  Lytle,  was  born  in  Williamsburg,  in 
1804.  Coming  to  Cincinnati  with  his  father's 
family  in  1810,  he  was  educated  in  the  old  Cin 
cinnati  College,  and  then  studied  and  practiced 
law.  After  serving  a  term  in  the  Ohio  Legisla 
ture,  he  was  elected,  in  1834,  to  a  seat  in  the 
National  Congress.  The  next  public  office  he 
filled  was  that  of  surveyor-general,  to  which  he 
was  appointed,  as  his  father  had  been,  by  Jack 
son.  Once  more  he  was  chosen  Representative 
in  the  Ohio  Legislature ;  and,  later,  was  commis 
sioned  major-general  of  the  Ohio  militia,  a  rank 
held  by  his  father  before  him,  and  after  by  his 
illustrious  son. 

Robert  T.  Lytle  was  a  person  of  fine  presence, 


4  WILLIAM    HAINES    LYTLE. 

a  courteous  gentleman,  an  accomplished  scholar. 
His  ability  in  conversation,  and  as  an  orator  at 
the  bar  and  on  the  stump,  was  so  marked  as  to 
win  him  universal  admiration.  In  the  democratic 
familiarity  of  political  fellowship,  his  constituents 
delighted  to  call  him  "  Orator  Bob,"  just  as  Cor- 
win's  followers  showed  affectionate  loyalty  by 
huzzaing  for  "  Old  Tom." 

On  November  30,  1825,  Robert  Lytle  married 
Miss  Elizabeth  Haines,  of  New  Jersey,  a  lady  of 
rare  culture  and  beauty.  Their  children  were 
one  son,  William  Haines  Lytle,  the  subject  of  this 
memoir,  and  two  daughters,  Josephine  R.  and 
Elizabeth  Haines  Lytle.  Robert  T.  Lytle  died 
in  New  Orleans,  in  1839,  aged  only  thirty-five, 
and  his  wife  survived  him  but  two  years. 

On  the  east  side  of  Lawrence  street,  midway 
between  Third  and  Fourth,  Cincinnati,  stands  a 
spacious  old  mansion  surrounded  by  a  broad 
lawn  and  shaded  by  trees.  This  is  the  Lytle 
residence,  built  by  General  William  Lytle  in 
1810,  and  now  occupied  by  his  grand-daughter, 
Mrs.  Josephine  R.  Foster.  It  was  the  first  brick 
residence  of  its  grade  erected  in  the  city.  When 
Andrew  Jackson  made  his  only  visit  to  Cincin- 


THE    LYTLE   MANSION.  5 

nati,  he  was  General  Lytle's  guest,  and  held  a 
levee,  or  "  Old  Hickory  "  reception,  in  the  south 
parlor  of  this  mansion. 

Under  its  hopitable  roof,  the  Lytle  house  has 
welcomed  many  noted  visitors — statesmen,  mili 
tary  officers,  journalists,  and  foreign  travelers. 
Always  have  its  doors  been  open  to  such  as 
sought  or  had  won  distinction  in  any  department 
of  art,  science,  or  literature.  Among  these  were 
Powers,  the  sculptor,  Mitchel,  the  astronomer, 
Read  and  Fosdick,  the  poets.  The  book-shelves, 
cabinets,  and  walls  are  rich  in  family  mementoes 
of  four  or  five  generations — autographs,  official 
commissions,  portraits,  silhouettes,  souvenirs  of 
military  interest  and  of  patriotic  devotion. 

In  this  house,  the  home  of  his  father  and  of  his 
grandfather,  was  born  William  Haines  Lytle,  on 
November  2,  1826.  Here,  under  the  wise 
guidance  of  his  father  and  the  gentle  care  of  his 
mother,  he  received  the  strong  mental  and  moral 
impulses  which  started  his  thoughts  and  feelings 
in  the  right  direction.  Here,  when  his  parents 
died  leaving  him  an  orphan  at  the  age  of  fifteen, 
he  was  still  the  companion  of  his  two  sisters,  for 
whom  he  always  cherished  the  warmest  brotherly 


6  WILLIAM    HAINES    LYTLE. 

affection  and  most  chivalrous  regard.  The  mu 
tual  love  and  fidelity  constantly  manifested  by 
three  so  near  and  dear  to  one  another,  illustrate 
how  sacred  and  beautiful  is  the  friendship  of 
kindred,  the  reciprocal  devotion  of  brother  and 
sisters.  Among  W.  H.  Lytle's  latest  verses  are 
the  lines : 

"  In  vain  for  me  the  applause  01  men, 
The  laurel  won  by  sword  or  pen, 
But  for  the  hope,  so  dear  and  sweet, 
To  lay  my  trophies  at  your  feet." 

These  lines  were  written  for  the  poet's  sisters ; 
and  when  he  lay  dead  on  the  field  of  Chicka- 
mauga,  friends  found  in  his  pocket-book  the  last 
letter  they  wrote  to  him,  a  letter  filled  with  anxious 
solicitude  and  affectionate  assurances. 

William  H.  Lytle  inherited  the  martial  spirit  of 
his  ancestors,  and  the  gift  of  eloquence.  He 
early  manifested  a  natural  tendency  to  express 
himself  in  oratorical  prose  and  romantic  verse. 
The  poetical  predilection  he  derived  from  his 
mother,  who  was  an  accomplished  writer  in  meter 
and  prose.  The  favorite  themes  on  which  he 
exercised  his  boyish  invention  were  patriotic. 


BOYHOOD    AND    YOUTH.  7 

Stimulated  to  the  pursuit  of  knowledge  by  all  that 
he  saw  and  heard  at  home,  he  read  and  studied 
and  wrote,  with  that  eager  pleasure  which,  in  an 
ambitious  youth,  gives  promise  of  rapid  progress. 
With  steady  fervor,  he  pored  over  books,  not  as  a 
task,  but  as  a  privilege. 

The  formal  schooling  he  received  was  from  the 
professors  of  the  old  Cincinnati  College,  of  which 
his  grandfather  was  a  founder,  and  in  which  his 
father  was  educated.  Young  Lytle  gave  his  en 
ergy  to  the  study  of  language,  English,  Latin, 
Greek,  German  and  French.  His  diligence  was 
such  that,  before  completing  his  sixteenth  year, 
he  finished  the  prescribed  course  and  graduated 
with  first  honors,  the  youngest  student  in  his  class. 
The  ' '  oration  "  which  he  delivered  on  the  occa 
sion,  February  3,  1843,  was  on  "Law  and  the 
Legal  Profession."  A  local  newspaper  mentions 
the  speech  as  "the  gem  of  the  evening,"  and  re 
marks  that  ' '  Master  Lytle  is  unquestionably  an 
uncommonly  good  speaker;  the  mantle  of  his 
parent  seems  to  have  fallen  upon  him,  graced  by 
additional  gifts  from  the  God  of  Eloquence,  which 
adds  to  it  fresh  luster  and  brilliance  " — a  strain  of 
rhetorical  praise  which  probably  pleased  the  young 


8  WILLIAM    HAINES   LYTLE. 

orator.  Doubtless  the  several  students  who  spoke 
graduation  speeches  that  evening  in  College  Hall 
were  conscious  of  some  special  demand  on  them 
to  meet  the  highest  expectation  of  General  Lewis 
Cass,  who  chanced  to  be  in  town  and  was  present 
at  the  exercises. 

The  speech  on  law  and  lawyers  was  by  no 
means  the  maiden  effort  of  its  author.  A  packet 
of  closely-written,  neatly-folded  manuscripts,  pre 
pared  for  delivery  before  the  Phi  Delta  Sigma 
society  of  the  college,  and  preserved  by  the  poet's 
sisters,  contains  a  number  of  academic  exercises 
of  merit  far  beyond  that  usually  discovered  in 
lads  of  fourteen  or  fifteen.  One  of  these  compo 
sitions  is  on  "Love  of  Country,"  and  another 
treats  of  "Intellectual  Freedom,"  or  rather,  of 
the  evil  of  mental  servitude.  In  this  last,  the 
hereditary  ardor  and  local  pride  of  the  young 
speaker  are  brought  out  in  a  vigorous  appeal  to 
his  fellow  students  to  be  worthy  of  their  ancestors 
and  the  place  of  their  nativity.  "And  then,"  he 
cries,  "mightiest  of  motives — there  is  your  line 
age  !  descendants  of  the  Western  pioneers !  natives 
of  Western  soil !  Can  you  be  degenerate  ?"  In 


BOYHOOD    AND    YOUTH.  9 

conclusion  he  quotes  from  William  D.  Gallagher 
the  lines  beginning, — 

"  Land  of  the  West — green  forest  land  ! 
Thine  early  day  for  deeds  is  famed, 
Which  in  heroic  page  shall  stand 
Till  bravery  is  no  longer  named." 

While  pursuing  his  studies  at  the  old  college, 
and  finding  such  inspiration  as  could  come  to  a 
a  boy  in  a  new  city,  which  he  called  the  "Athens 
of  the  Backwoods,"  Lytle  "caught  the  trick"  of 
verse,  and  often  amused  himself  composing  sim 
ple  ballads  and  songs.  The  earliest  of  his  metri 
cal  pieces  that  escaped  destruction  was  composed 
when  he  was  only  fourteen  years  old,  and  is  called 
"The  Soldier's  Death." 

Having  finished  the  college  course,  Lytle 
studied  law  under  the  guidance  of  his  mother's 
brother,  E.  S.  Haines,  in  whose  office  he  was 
made  ready  for  admission  to  the  Cincinnati  bar. 
During  the  five  years  of  preparation,  in  his 
uncle's  office,  he  found  time  to  extend  his  gen 
eral  knowledge  of  science  and  literature,  and 
especially  of  French  and  German. 

The  Mexican  war,  which  broke  out  in  1846, 


10  WILLIAM    RAINES    LYTLE. 

had  a  romantic,  adventurous,  and  spectacular 
character,  irresistibly  attractive  to  young  men  of 
cavalier  instincts.  The  reports  and  rumors  that 
came  from  Taylor's  army,  of  marches  and  battles 
and  bombardments,  in  the  gulf-girt  mountain 
land  of  the  ancient  Montezumas,  sounded  like 
some  tale  of  mediaeval  war,  in  which  personal 
deeds  of  daring  and  pursuits  of  love  made 
knight-errantry  the  glory  of  manhood.  Hun 
dreds  of  volunteers  enlisted  from  all  parts  of  the 
Ohio  valley,  leaving  book  on  shelf  and  plow  in 
furrow,  to  follow  the  flag  in  Mexico.  No  wonder 
that  the  martial  blood  of  the  young  and  brave  was 
stirred  by  the  recital  of  daring  exploits  and 
perilous  escapes,  shared  by  heroes  who  charged 
on  the  field  of  Palo  Alto  or  helped  storm  Monte 
rey.  The  very  names,  Mexico,  Cerro  Gordo, 
Cherubusco,  had  a  sonorous  sound  echoing  of 
old  Spain.  Captain  George  W.  Cutter  led  the 
Kenton  Guards  from  Covington  to  the  seat  of 
war,  and,  after  the  battle  of  Buena  Vista,  told  in 
verse  how 

"Amidst  the  sanguine  dews 
Lay  the  guards  of  Montezuma 
And  the  knights  of  Vera  Cruz." 


THE   WAR    IN    MEXICO.  11 

And  another  Kentucky  poet,  O'Hara,  volun 
teering  at  the  outbreak  of  the  war,  marched  away 
beyond  the  Rio  Grande,  followed  by  those  gal 
lant  soldiers  whose  valor  and  death  he  com 
memorated  afterward  in  the  immortal  quatrain  : 

"On  fame's  eternal  camping  ground 

Their  silent  tents  are  spread, 
And  glory  guards,  with  solemn  round, 
The  bivouac  of  the  dead." 

Strange  would  it  have  been,  had  not  William 
H.  Lytle  heard  the  bugle  blow  and  the  drum 
roll,  even  in  his  dreams,  calling  him  to  don  the 
sword  of  his  fathers,  if  for  no  other  reason,  from 
the  impulse  of  military  ardor  and  the  love  of 
glory.  Enlisting  in  the  summer  of  1847,  though 
yet  in  his  minority,  he  was  chosen  first  lieutenant 
in  Company  L  in  the  Second  Regiment  of  In 
fantry,  Ohio  Volunteers,  Colonel  Irwin  of  Lan 
caster  commanding.  The  regiment  was  received 
into  the  service  on  the  fifth  of  October,  1847,  and 
disbanded  on  the  twenty-fifth  of  July,  1848.  On 
the  twenty-first  of  December,  1847,  Lytle  was 
made  captain  of  his  company. 

Lytle's  campaigning  in  Mexico  came  too  late 


12  WILLIAM    HAINES    LYTLE. 

in  the  war  to  afford  much  occasion  for  active 
service,  but  it  furnished  valuable  experience  in 
military  training,  and  gave  opportunity  to  see  a 
wonderful,  tropical  region,  and  to  enjoy  the 
poetical  and  romantic  emotions  evoked  by  ad 
ventures  new  and  strange.  The  ten  months' 
sojourn  in  Mexico  was  rich  in  literary  material, 
part  of  which  he  worked  up  in  letters  mainly  de 
scriptive  of  scenery.  Some  of  his  best  poems 
were  the  fruit  of  his  Mexican  experience,  for  ex 
ample,  "The  Volunteers"  and  "  Popocatapetl. " 

Every  youth  whom  "  Fate  reserves  for  a  bright 
manhood,"  comes  soon  upon  the  day  which  bids 
him  lay  hold  of  his  life-work  in  earnest,  quit  the 
dream  and  begin  the  deed.  Lytle  had  in  him  a 
steady  fire  of  energy  which  kept  him  always 
active.  There  was  nothing  eccentric  about  him, 
nothing  hesitating  or  despondent.  Though  of 
the  so-called  "poetic  temperament,"  he  did  not 
affect  peculiar  sensibilities,  indulge  unruly  pass 
ions,  or  exact  tribute  of  sentimental  sympathy 
from  his  friends.  He  was  strong  and  self-reliant, 
asking  no  one  to  live  for  him  or  to  die  for  him. 
Returning  to  Cincinnati,  when  the  Mexican  war 
was  ended,  he  entered  into  a  law  partnership  with 


LAWYER   AND   POLITICIAN.  13 

the  firm  of  Haines,  Todd  &  Lytle ;  and  at  once 
found  business  as  an  advocate  in  the  courts  of  the 
city.  His  general  popularity  among  both  Derrio- 
crats  and  Whigs,  and  his  known  ability  as  a  pub 
lic  speaker,  led  his  friends  of  the  Democratic 
party  to  nominate  him  as  candidate  for  state  legis 
lature,  to  which  office  he  was  elected  in  1852. 
He  served  two  terms  in  the  House  of  Representa 
tives,  and  was  for  a  time  speaker  of  that  body. 
All  the  accounts  which  we  have  seen  of  his 
political  career  agree  in  testifying  that,  though  he 
spoke  seldom,  his  speaking  was  always  to  the 
point,  clear,  forcible,  and  effective. 

One  of  his  addresses,  delivered  in  1853,  at 
tracted  much  attention.  The  speech  was  in 
advocacy  of  a  bill  introduced  by  Durbin  Ward, 
of  Warren  county,  to  appropriate  ten  thousand 
dollars  for  a  statue  of  Washington  by  Hiram 
Powers,  to  be  placed  in  the  State  House.  The 
discourse  was  eloquent  and  persuasive,  and  it  has 
a  special  interest  because  it  discusses  matters  of 
taste  and  art,  and  pays  deserved  tribute  to  the 
genius  of  an  American  sculptor. 

In  1857,  Mr.  Lytle  was  the  candidate  of  the 
Democrats  for  lieutenant-governor,  and  canvassed 


14  WILLIAM    HAINES   LYTLE. 

the  state,  but  was  not  elected.  Governor  Chase, 
in  the  same  year,  bestowed  upon  him  the  com 
mission  of  major-general,  commanding  the  first 
division  of  the  Ohio  militia.  At  that  time  no  one 
foresaw  the  imminence  of  the  war-cloud  which 
was  to  burst  in  1861.  Though  no  acts  of  special 
military  or  political  significance  are  ascribed  to 
W.  H.  Lytle  from  the  time  of  his  appointment  to 
the  command  of  the  militia  to  the  breaking  out 
of  the  Civil  War,  yet,  perhaps,  the  verdict  of  pos 
terity  will  be,  that  within  that  period  he  created, 
in  a  happy  hour,  that  which  will  perpetuate  his 
memory  after  his  war  laurels  have  faded.  In 
July,  1858  he  wrote  his  best  poem. 

The  story  of  General  Lytle's  splendid  career 
from  the  day  when  Fort  Sumter  yielded  to  the  day 
of  his  death  on  the  field  of  Chickamauga — a  period 
of  less  than  two  years  and  eight  months — covers 
the  events  of  three  principal  campaigns,  each  sig 
nalized  by  a  terrible  battle.  The  time  was  indeed 
short,  but  it  seems  long  because  the  flying  days 
of  it  were  laden  with  deeds  of  historic  moment. 
The  time  was  short,  but  long  enough  to  develop 
many  heroes ;  but  not  one  more  illustrious  than 
William  Haines  Lytle,  the  poet-warrior. 


AWAY   TO   THE   WARS   AGAIN.  15 

President  Lincoln's  first  call  for  troops  was  is 
sued  on  Sunday,  April  15,  1861.  Next  day,  the 
governor  of  Ohio,  William  Dennison,  telegraphed 
to  General  Lytle,  ordering  him  to  establish  a  camp 
at  Cincinnati.  Summoning  his  staff  to  meet  at 
the  Burnet  House,  he  kept  them  at  work  all  night 
recruiting  a  regiment.  A  local  military  company, 
the  Guthrie  Grays,  was  made  the  nucleus  of  the 
organization.  So  many  volunteers  desired  to  en 
list  that  the  doors  of  the  rendezvous  had  to  be 
locked  after  the  last  company  of  the  regiment 
was  filled  with  picked  men.  Hundreds  of  appli 
cants  were  disappointed.  On  Tuesday  the  troops 
marched  to  Camp  Harrison,  on  the  grounds  of 
the  old  trotting  park,  near  Spring  Grove.  This 
was  the  first  properly  organized  camp  of  instruc 
tion  in  the  West. 

The  suddenly-formed  camp  at  -once  attracted 
universal  attention  to  its  scenes  of  busy  prepara 
tion  and  high-wrought  excitement.  The  chief 
interest  and  admiration  centered  in  the  com 
mander.  Scarcely  had  the  troops  assembled  be 
fore  throngs  of  citizens  flocked  to  camp  to  proffer 
words  of  cheer  and  gifts  of  price.  Mass  was 
celebrated  in  the  Irish  companies  of  the  Tenth 


16  WILLIAM    HAINES   LYTLE. 

Regiment,  and  Archbishop  Purcell  made  a  stir 
ring  speech  to  the  soldiers.  On  the  same  day, 
May  1 5th,  a  sword  was  presented  to  Colonel 
Lytle  by  T.  J.  Gallagher,  from  members  of  the 
Cincinnati  bar.  Other  friends  made  the  colonel 
an  equally  appropriate  present,  a  handsome  black 
horse  of  noble  breed,  bearing  the  Irish  name, 
Faugh-a-Ballaugh,  or  "  Clear  the  Way." 

On  the  4th  of  June,  1861,  the  governor  of  Ohio 
issued  a  commission  appointing  Lytle  colonel  of 
the  Tenth  Infantry,  Ohio  Volunteers,  known  as 
the  Montgomery  Regiment,  in  honor  of  the 
Montgomery  Guards.  The  regiment  presently 
marched  from  Camp  Harrison  to  Camp  Denni- 
son,  on  the  Little  Miami  Railroad,  sixteen  miles 
from  Cincinnati.  Before  the  departure  of  the 
troops  to  Virginia,  whither  they  were  ordered, 
a  stand  of  regimental  colors  was  presented  to  the 
Tenth  Regiment,  an  offering  from  patriotic  women 
of  Cincinnati.  The  flags  were  presented  by 
Hon.  Bellamy  Storer,  with  an  appropriate  ad 
dress.  Coionel  Lytle  replied  in  these  words : 

"Sir:  On  behalf  of  the  Tenth  Regiment,  I 
tender  to  the  ladies  of  Cincinnati,  through  you, 
our  heartfelt  thanks  for  these  beautiful  flags. 


THE    BLOODY    TENTH.  17 

"When  these  wars  are  over,  we  will  bring 
them  back  again  to  the  Queen  City  of  the  West, 
without  spot  or  blemish. 

"  You  see  around  you  a  thousand  men  who  to 
day  say  good-by  to  their  sweethearts  and  their 
friends.  God  bless  the  city,  the  state,  the  Union, 
and  the  ladies.  We  make  no  promises,  but  when  it 
comes  to  the  clash  of  steel,  remember  the  Tenth. 

' '  Sir,  tell  the  ladies  that  there  is  not  a  man  in 
these  ranks  who  will  not  shed  his  heart's  blood 
like  water  beneath  these  colors. 

' '  We  bid  you  good-by,  and  God  bless  you  all. 
'Faugh-a-Ballaugh.'" 

The  Montgomery  regiment  moved  without  de 
lay  to  the  assigned  field  of  duty,  in  Western 
Virginia,  taking  its  place  in  the  general  army. 
Numerous  important  services  were  required  of 
the  regiment,  though  it  engaged  in  no  great  bat 
tle  until  September.  Repeated  testimonies  came 
from  the  war  correspondents  to  the  effect  that 
"Colonel  Lytle  and  his  officers  deserved  the 
highest  credit  for  their  success  in  the  long,  heavy 
march  over  the  mountains;"  that  "the  colonel 
was  wearing  well  and  was  fit  for  his  onerous 
tasks ;"  and  that  his  men  were  having  a  full  share 


18  WILLIAM    HAINES    LYTLE. 

of  "bush-whacking"  and  guerrilla  warfare.  On 
one  occasion  of  terrible  excitement,  almost  panic, 
Lytle  rode  in  among  the  men,  "addressed  them 
in  happy  but  emphatic  terms,  and  left  them  cheer 
ing  lustily  all  he  said." 

The  battle  of  Carnifex  Ferry,  fought  on  Sep 
tember  10,  1861,  was  the  first  in  which  the  Tenth 
Ohio  was  engaged,  and  the  first  scene  of  great 
slaughter  witnessed  by  Colonel  Lytle.  The  crim 
son  baptism  which  the  Montgomery  regiment  that 
day  received  rechristened  it  The  Bloody  Tenth. 
The  new  banner  which  mothers,  sisters,  wives, 
and  sweethearts  had  given  to  the  boys  in  blue, 
on  the  peaceful  banks  of  the  Miami,  went  down 
in  the  conflict,  but  was  not  lost.  Under  its  very 
folds,  the  young  Colonel  who  had  received  it, 
and  given  pledge  to  protect  it,  fell  wounded.  His 
sergeant,  Michael  Fitzgibbons,  shot  all  but  to 
pieces,  gasping  in  death,  said :  ' '  Never  mind  me  ! 
Where  is  the  flag  ?  Where  is  it  ?  For  God's 
sake  save  the  flag  !"  Another  color-bearer,  Dan 
iel  O' Conner,  was  shot  down.  Then  Captain 
Stephen  McGroarty,  held  up  the  colors,  was 
struck  by  a  rifle  ball  and  fell  wounded.  All  this 
gallant  work — no  playing  soldier  now — took  place 


THE  BATTLE  OF  CARNIFEX  FERRY.      19 

immediately  after  Colonel  Lytle  fell-,  from  the 
effect  of  a  wound  in  the  leg.  A  witness  of  the 
action  says  :  ' '  Lytle  realized  every  idea  of  chiv 
alry  I  had  formed  from  romance  or  history." 
The  gallant  colonel  was  mounted  on  the  black 
charger,  Faugh-a-Ballaugh,  when  hit  by  the  ball 
which  also  wounded  the  steed.  The  rider  came 
to  the  ground,  and,  snatching  a  musket,  began 
to  fire  at  the  foe,  but  the  horse,  plunging,  fell 
dead  within  the  enemy's  works.  A  generous  en 
thusiasm  of  valor  glowed  in  the  hearts  of  Lytle's 
men,  and  spread  to  other  regiments.  Colonel 
Lowe,  of  the  Twelfth  Ohio,  was  heard  to  say, 
the  moment  before  a  bullet  killed  him  :  "I  want 
to  be  where  Lytle  is.  There  is  where  the  fight 
ing  will  be. "  Captain  McGroarty,  the  color-bearer, 
said:  "Why,  there  are  no  men  but  would  bat 
tle  to  the  death  if  led  by  Colonel  Lytle." 

Colonel  Lytle,  with  other  wounded  officers, 
was  brought  to  Cincinnati,  where,  at  the  residence 
of  his  brother-in-law,  Samuel  J.  Broadwell,  he 
was  cared  for  affectionately  by  his  two  sisters. 
All  Cincinnati  was  ablaze  with  enthusiasm.  The 
beautiful  regimental  flag,  bearing  the  inscription, 
"  God  and  Our  Union,"  which  the  ladies  had 


20  WILLIAM    HAINES    LYTLE. 

presented  to  the  "  Bloody  Tenth,"  in  June,  was 
placed  in  a  show-window  of  Shillito's  store  on 
Fourth  street.  A  newspaper  item  said:  "The 
staff  is  broken  into  several  pieces,  and  in  front  of 
the  banner  lies  the  oil-cloth  cover,  stained  with 
blood."  People  came  in  curiosity  to  look,  but, 
looking,  could  not  see,  for  tears.  The  dread  re 
ality  of  war  was  but  too  sadly  emblazoned  in  that 
blood-stained  silken  symbol.  The  common  emo 
tion  found  expression  in  several  pieces  of  verse, 
among  which  was  one  by  Mrs.  S.  H.  Oliver,  en 
titled,  "Banner  of  the  Tenth  Ohio."  The  last 
two  stanzas  of  her  poem  are  here  quoted : 

"  On  the  banks  of  Gauley  river, 

Many  a  son  of  Erin  died; 
Many  a  brave  and  loyal  German 
Fought  Columbia's  sons  beside. 

Honor  to  the  Tenth  Ohio, 

Who  the  brunt  of  battle  braved; 

Henceforth  let  it  be  remembered, 
Erin':,  sons  the  banner  saved." 

Having  recovered  from  his  wound,  Colonel 
Lytle  was  placed  in  command  of  Camp  Morton, 
at  Bardstown,  Ky.,  a  camp  of  rendezvous  and 


A   NEW   COMMAND.  21 

instruction,  with  an  average  presence  of  ten 
thousand  troops.  He  remained  at  this  post  from 
late  in  January  till  the  beginning  of  April,  1862, 
and  was  then  assigned  to  the  command  of  the 
Seventeenth  Brigade  of  the  Third  Division  of  the 
Army  of  the  Cumberland,  General  O.  M.  Mitchel 
commanding.  A  correspondent  of  the  "Cincin 
nati  Enquirer,"  writing  under  date  of  March  27, 
1862,  gives  a  lively  description  of  what  happened 
when  Lytle  presented  himself  for  special  orders 
at  Camp  Van  Buren,  Murfreesboro :  "While  I 
write,"  he  says,  "  I  hear  a  tremendous  cheering, 
and  go  out  to  learn  what  it  means.  I  see  the 
guard  turned  out  at  present  arms  to  some  digni 
tary,  and  hasten  to  see  who  it  is.  Imagine  my 
surprise,  when  I  see  Major  Moore,  of  the  Tenth 
Ohio,  ride  up  to  a  squadron  of  cavalry  and  shake 
hands  with  a  very  modest-looking  trooper,  who, 
on  closer  inspection,  turned  out  to  be  Colonel 
William  H.  Lytle.  He  was  now  on  his  way  to 
General  Mitchel's  quarters,  where  the  Tenth  met 
him  on  their  return  from  town.  As  soon  as  the 
boys  recognized  him,  a  cheer  went  up  that  called 
out  the  whole  camp ;  hats,  caps,  and  guns  went 


22  WILLIAM    HAINES    LYTLE. 

up  in  wild  confusion,  and  the  scene  presented  by 
the  enthusiastic  Tenth  beggars  description." 

On  the  23d  of  August,  1862,  orders  were  is 
sued  instructing  Colonel  Lytle  to  ' '  take  command 
of  all  the  forces  at  Huntsville  and  hasten  the 
shipments  of  supplies  "  from  that  point  to  Louis 
ville.  The  general  commanding  expressed  in  ad 
vance  his  confidence  in  Colonel  Lytle's  judgment 
and  efficiency  as  an  officer,  "  to  perform  the  im 
portant  and  probably  hazardous  duties  "  assigned 
to  him.  Nor  was  this  confidence  misplaced. 
The  march  was  successfully  accomplished  within 
seventeen  days,  without  the  loss  of  a  soldier,  an 
animal  or  a  wagon.  On  the  last  day  the  com 
mand  marched  thirty-two  miles,  reaching  Louis 
ville  on  September  26th.  Besides  the  troops, 
which  included  the  Tenth  Ohio,  Fifteenth  Ken 
tucky,  two  companies  Alabama  loyal  troops,  one 
company  Michigan  engineers  and  mechanics, 
Loomis',  Ames',  Ballard's,  and  Kennett's  cavalry, 
the  Third  Ohio,  and  Forty-second  Iowa,  and 
Stone's  Battery,  the  command  was  burdened  with 
a  train  of  over  a  hundred  wagons,  a  drove  of 
between  five  hundred  and  six  hundred  horses,  and 
also  by  a  large  number  of  refugees.  The  dust 


BATTLE    OF    PERRYVILLE.  23 

and  heat  were  intolerable,  and  the  water  was 
scarce ;  but,  notwithstanding  drawbacks,  the  march 
was  a  "  complete  success." 

The  general  movements  of  the  armies  of  Buell 
and  Bragg  in  the  series  of  military  operations 
culminating  in  the  battle  of  Perry  ville  can  be  read 
in  any  history  of  the  Civil  War.  The  special 
part  of  the  general  action,  with  which  our  sketch 
is  concerned,  was  very  clearly  described  in  an 
admirable  paper  on  Colonel  Lytle  read  before  the 
Loyal  Legion  by  Dr.  A.  C.  Kemper,  in  1883, 
from  which  we  quote  : 

"Colonel  Harris  notified  Colonel  Lytle  that  his 
left  flank  was  exposed.  Colonel  Lytle  saw  that 
his  right  flank  also  was  attacked  by  overwhelming 
numbers.  Upon  the  one  side,  General  Bragg 
appeared  in  person  on  the  field,  and  General 
Polk,  encouraging  his  troops ,  and  on  the  other, 
General  Rosecrans,  a  host  in  himself.  Colonel 
Lytle  begged  for  reinforcements.  He  was  or 
dered  by  General  McCook  to  hold  his  ground. 
Next  day  it  was  asked  by  some  one  if,  under  such 
circumstances,  he  obeyed  the  order.  The  reply 
was :  '  Go  ask  Rousseau !  Go  ask  the  Fifteenth 


24  WILLIAM    HAINES   LYTLE. 

Kentucky !  And,  if  you  dare,  go  ask  the  Tenth 
Ohio  if  Lytle  obeyed  the  order ! ' 

"The  most  practicable  thing  to  do  was  done. 
Colonel  Lytle  dismounted,  and  led  in  person  a 
charge  by  the  flank.  A  fragment  of  a  shell  struck 
him  on  the  left  side  of  the  head,  behind  the  ear, 
prostrating  him  and  covering  him  with  blood. 
Sergeant  Donohue  lifted  him  in  his  arms,  only  to 
be  told :  '  Leave  me ;  I  'm  done  for.  Stand  by 
your  colors !'  He  was  left  upon  the  field  with  his 
dead  orderly,  Robb ;  one  of  his  aides,  Lieutenant 
St.  John ;  and  two  hundred  and  sixty-five  out  of 
five  hundred  and  twenty-eight  of  the  Tenth 
Ohio." 

His  wound,  though  frightful  in  appearance,  did 
not  prove  dangerous.  He  was  taken  prisoner,  but 
soon  released  on  parole,  and  sent  home.  The 
battle  of  Perryville  was  fought  October  7,  1862; 
Colonel  Lytle  returned  to  the  home  of  his  brother- 
in-law,  Dr.  Foster,  Cincinnati,  on  October  i3th. 

Lytle  was  ill-content  to  stay  at  home  longer 
than  necessity  required.  Immediately  he  solicited 
the  Secretary  of  War  to  hasten  orders  for  his 
exchange.  Secretary  Stanton  responded  in  a  tele 
gram,  dated  October  14,  saying:  "The  adjutant- 


PRISONER   OF   WAR.  25 

general  is  instructed  negotiate  your  exchange  as 
speedily  as  possible.  Allow  me  to  express  my 
high  estimation  of  your  gallantry  and  hope  for 
your  speedy  recovery  and  restoration  to  your 
command  with  appropriate  rank."  On  the  next 
day,  the  following  letter  was  dispatched  from  the 
state  capital : 

HEADQUARTERS  PAROLED  PRISONERS, 
"  COLUMBUS,  O,  October  25,  1862. 

"Colonel — Yours  of  yesterday  reporting  your 
self  as  a  paroled  prisoner  is  at  hand. 

"  I  will  answer  it  myself,  Colonel,  that  the  oppor 
tunity  to  tell  you  how  sincerely  sorry  I  am  that 
you  are  hurt  and  a  prisoner  may  not  slip  me.  I 
wish,  also,  to  congratulate  you  that  you  have  won 
fame  so  far.  Courage  and  a  clear  head  are  God's 
good  gifts,  and  for  our  country's  sake  I  am  glad 
you  have  so  nobly  manifested  them  as  your  prop 
erties. 

"  No  doubt  you  are  in  excellent  quarters,  sur 
rounded  by  friends ;  if  so,  remain  there  until  you 
are  recovered,  exchanged,  and  receive  orders. 
You  are  needed  in  the  field,  where  I  wish  to 


26  WILLIAM    HAINES   LYTLE. 

heaven  I  could  accompany   you.     Wishing  you 
well,  Colonel,  I  am  most  truly  your  friend, 

"LEWIS  WALLACE,  Maj.-Gtnl. 
"  To  COLONEL  W.  H.  LYTLE." 

The  complimentary  dispatch  from  the  Secretary 
of  War,  and  General  Wallace's  cordial  letter  of 
soldierly  congratulation,  though  grateful  to  Colo 
nel  Lytle's  feelings,  only  increased  his  anxiety  to 
return  to  the  field  and  resume  his  command. 
After  waiting  impatiently  two  months  for  news 
of  his  restoration  to  the  service,  he  wrote  to  the 
commissary  of  prisoners,  inclosing  a  copy  of  Sec 
retary  Stanton's  telegram.  His  letter  ran  as  fol 
lows: 

"CINCINNATI,  January  5,  1863. 
"COLONEL  WILLIAM  HOFFMAN,  U.  S.  A., 

"Commissary  General  of  Prisoners,  Washing 
ton,  D.  C.: 

"  Colonel—  At  the  battle  of  Perry ville,  Ken 
tucky,  while  engaged  in  rallying  one  of  my  regi 
ments,  momentarily  thrown  into  some  disorder  by 
an  attack  of  the  enemy  in  great  force,  I  was  dis 
abled  by  a  wound  and  taken  prisoner.  On  the 
day  following,  I  was  paroled  at  Harrodsburg. 


FROM    PERRYVILLE   TO   CHICKAMAUGA.          27 

On  the  night  of  my  arrival  in  this  city,  I  received 
a  telegram  from  Washington,  of  which  the  in 
closed  is  a  copy.  Notwithstanding  this  order  to 
the  adjutant-general,  I  have  not  yet,  after  the 
lapse  of  more  than  two  months,  received  any 
notification  of  my  exchange,  and  recently,  at 
Murfreesboro,  to  my  intense  regret,  my  old  com 
mand  has  been  in  action  without  me.  May  I 
not  ask,  Colonel,  your  earliest  attention  to  my 
case,  and  that,  if  practicable,  my  exchange  may 
be  effected  without  greater  delay  ? 

"I  will  add,  that  my  address  is  to  Cincinnati, 
under  orders  from  Major-General  Wallace,  com 
manding  camp  of  paroled  prisoners  at  Columbus, 
dated  October  25,  1862,  to  remain  here  until  I 
was  recovered,  exchanged,  and  receive  orders. 

' '  I  have  the  honor  to  be,  Colonel,  your  obe 
dient  servant, 

"WM.  H.  LYTLE, 

"Colonel  Tenth  Ohio,  lately  commanding  Seventeenth 
Brigade,  Rousseau's  Division. 

On  November  29th,  Colonel  Lytle  was  pro 
moted  to  the  rank  of  brigadier-general,  and  early 
in  the  following  February  he  was  assigned  to  the 


28  WILLIAM    HAINES    LYTLE. 

command  of  the  First  Brigade,  in  the  Third  Di 
vision,  Twentieth  Army  Corps  of  the  Army  of 
the  Cumberland.  The  corps  was  commanded  by 
Rosecrans,  the  division  by  Sheridan.  Lytle's 
brigade  had  been  commanded  by  General  Sill,  a 
distinguished  Ohioan,  who  fell  in  the  battle  of 
Murfreesboro.  A  sergeant-major  in  the  brigade, 
referring  to  Lytle's  succession  to  Sill's  command, 
says  : 

"It  speedily  became  apparent  that  the  same 
lofty  courtesies  and  qualities  of  mind  and  heart 
which  had  so  endeared  to  us  the  one,  shone  out 
with  an  equal  luster  in  the  character  of  the  other. 
The  same  calm  breadth  of  justice,  the  same  high 
scorn  of  meanness  and  baseness,  the  same  rare 
culture,  the  same  philosophic  quiet  and  studious 
earnestness  to  excel,  the  same  genial  warmth  of 
manner,  the  same  affectionate  tenderness  for  the 
comfort  of  his  subordinates,  whether  officers  or 
men,  the  same  scrupulous  care  not  to  offend,  the 
same  magnanimity  toward  foes,  and  the  same 
magnificent  surrender  of  self  toward  friends,  dis 
tinct  in  individuals,  yet  alike  in  their  grand  re 
semblances  to  the  patterns  and  models  of  the 
race — it  is  enough  for  me  to  say  that  the  beautiful 


FROM    PERRYVILLE   TO   CHICKAMAUGA.         29 

tribute  which  General  Lytle,  in  his  late  speech  at 
Bridgeport,  paid  to  the  virtues  and  valor  and  wis 
dom  of  Sill,  is  itself  the  best  and  truest  eulogy 
that  can  be  pronounced  over  Lytle." 

The  speech  alluded  to  was  a  notable  one  which 
was  delivered  in  accepting  a  jeweled  Maltese  cross 
presented  at  Bridgeport,  Alabama,  by  officers  of 
the  Tenth  Ohio.  The  magnificent  ornament,  of 
gold  set  with  emeralds  and  diamonds,  with  in 
scriptions,  and  the  Irish  emblem,  the  shamrock, 
engraved  upon  it,  was  presented  near  a  spring 
close  by  the  general's  quarters,  on  a  Sunday  even 
ing,  August  9,  1863,  just  seven  weeks  before  the 
day  of  his  death  at  Chickamauga.  Lieutenant- 
Colonel  Ward,  of  the  Tenth  Ohio,  made  the  pre 
sentation  speech,  and  pinned  the  cross  to  the  gen 
eral's  coat.  In  the  course  of  his  eloquent  ad 
dress  in  reply,  General  Lytle  said : 

"I  will  not  deny,  gentlemen,  that,  when,  on  re 
porting  to  this  department,  I  found  you  were  to 
be  no  longer  in  my  command,  I  felt  that  sense  of 
loneliness  and  isolation  natural  to  one  whose  old 
army  associations  were  broken  up.  My  present 
command  will  pardon  me  for  saying  this,  I  know, 
for,  in  my  judgment,  no  man  who  forgets  his  old 


30  WILLIAM    RAINES    LYTLE. 

friends  deserves  to  make  new  ones.  But  long 
since  I  have  felt  perfectly  at  home,  and  I  can  not 
let  this  occasion  pass  without  expressing  to  the 
officers  and  men  of  the  First  Brigade  my  heartfelt 
thanks  for  the  warm  and  generous  welcome  they 
have  awarded  to  a  stranger.  Gentlemen  of  the 
Tenth  Ohio,  you  see  around  you  your  brethren 
in  arms,  the  men  of  Sheridan's  division;  men 
from  the  North-west,  from  the  clans  of  the  peo 
ple,  who  pitch  their  tents  on  the  prairies  of  Illi 
nois  and  Michigan  and  Wisconsin,  and  by  the 
shores  of  the  great  lakes — veterans  of  Pea  Ridge, 
Perryville,  and  Stone  River.  When  the  next 
fight  comes  on,  may  they  and  the  old  Tenth 
stand  shoulder  to  shoulder,  and  see  by  whom,  in 
glorious  emulation,  our  battle-flags  into  the  ranks 
of  the  enemy  can  be  flung  the  farthest  and  fol 
lowed  the  closest." 

In  this  noble  strain  the  orator  went  on,  making 
the  most  memorable  speech  of  his  life,  a  speech 
which,  in  its  simple  fervid  force  and  sincerity,  is 
not  unworthy  to  be  placed  side  by  side  with  Lin 
coln's,  at  Gettysburg.  The  closing  paragraph  of 
the  warrior  poet's  address  is  in  the  following 
words : 


FROM    PERRYVILLE   TO   CHICKAMAUGA.          31 

"That  the  day  of  ultimate  triumph  for  the 
Union  arms,  sooner  or  later,  will  come,  I  do  not 
doubt,  for  I  have  faith  in  the  courage,  the  wis 
dom,  and  the  justice  of  the  people.  It  may  not 
be  for  all  of  us  here  to-day  to  listen  to  the  chants 
that  greet  the  victor,  nor  to  hear  the  bells  ring 
out  the  new  nuptials  of  the  States.  But  those 
who  do  survive  can  tell,  at  least,  to  the  people, 
how  their  old  comrades,  whether  in  the  skirmish 
or  the  charge,  before  the  rifle-pit  or  the  redan, 
died  with  their  harness  on,  in  the  great  war  for  the 
Union  and  Liberty." 

The  effect  of  this  eloquent  address — the  last 
public  utterance,  as  it  proved,  of  a  brave  patriot 
— was  profound  and  thrilling. 

The  poet,  Richard  Realf,  who  was  present — 
then  sergeant-major  in  the  Eighty-eighth  Illinois 
Volunteers — was  inspired  by  the  speech  to  com 
pose,  on  the  field,  the  following  sonnet,  which 
we  copy  from  the  original  draft. 

SONNET. 

[Speech  of  Brigadier  General  Wm.  H.  Lytle,  Bridgeport,  Ala.l 

"  Vates!  "  I  shouted,  while  your  solemn  words, 
Rythmic  with  crowned  passion  lilted  past, 


32  WILLIAM    HAINES    LYTLE. 

"  That  land  which,  clung  with  agony,  affords 
Great  souls  all  coined  in  one  grand  battle-blast 
Like  this  soul  and  this  singing,  shall  not  fail 
So  much  as  by  a  hair-breadth,  of  the  large 
Results  of  affluent  wisdom,  whereunto 
Across  the  bloody  gaps  our  swords  must  hew, 
And  far  beyond  the  mountain  and  the  marge, 
We  press  with  bruised  limbs  that  yet  shall  scale 
The  topmost  heights  of  being:"  therefore  thou 
Lead  on,  that  we  may  follow,  for  I  think 
The  future  hath  not  wherefrom  we  should  shrink  ; 
Held  by  the  steadfast  shining  of  your  brow." 

The  terrific  battle  of  Chickamauga,  so  fraught 
with  disaster,  so  memorable  for  deeds  of  heroic 
daring,  raged  for  two  days,  September  19  and  20, 
1863.  It  was  in  the  forenoon  of  the  second  day, 
Sunday,  that  General  Lytle  while  directing  the 
movements  of  his  brigade,  on  horseback,  was 
shot  and  killed  by  a  ball  which  struck  him  in  the 
head.  He  was  the  only  Union  officer  of  high 
rank  who  fell  that  day. 

The  manuscript  journal  of  Captain  Alfred  Pir- 
tle,  aid-de-camp  on  General  Lytle's  staff,  affords 
an  accurate  and  sympathetic  description  of  the 
general's  personal  aspect  and  conduct  on  the  bat- 


CHICKAMAUGA.  33 

tie-field  just  before  the  onslaught  in  which  his 
life  was  lost.  The  journal  says  : 

"The  Eighty-eighth  Illinois,  led  by  General 
Lytle,  charged  the  enemy  and  took  position  on 
the  top  of  a  gentle  slope.  A  few  moments  after, 
the  Thirty-sixth  Illinois  joins  them,  and  then  the 
Twenty-fourth  Wisconsin  moves  up  to  the  sup 
port  of  the  Thirty-sixth  Illinois.  Our  other  regi 
ment,  the  Twenty-first  Michigan,  is  also  soon  en 
gaged,  and  a  section  of  the  Eleventh  Indiana 
Battery  pushed  up  the  hill  by  hand. 

"The  general  is  sitting  on  his  horse  at  this 
time,  facing  south,  his  left  side  toward  the  en 
emy,  grasping  in  military  style  his  reins  in  his 
left  hand;  his  sword  drawn,  the  blade  sloping 
upward,  rests  upon  the  reins.  He  wears  high 
top  boots,  plain  dark  blue  pants,  overcoat  with 
out  ornament  or  cape,  buttoned  to  the  throat, 
with  sword-belt  outside — the  only  mark  of  rank 
being  the  gold  cord  of  a  general  on  a  military 
hat ;  under  his  overcoat  he  wears  a  single-breasted 
blouse  with  brigadier-general  shoulder-straps.  His 
horse  is  caparisoned  as  becomes  his  rank.  Upon 
his  face  is  an  indiscribable  expression  caused  by 
what  is  called  the  '  battle-fire ' — a  spirit  of  en- 


34  WILLIAM    HAINES   LYTLE. 

thusiasm  brought  on  by  the  tremendous  excite 
ment  of  the  conflict,  which  irradiates  every  fea 
ture,  sparkles  from  his  eyes,  marks  with  sharp 
outlines  the  curves  of  the  nostrils,  and  seems 
ready  to  leap  forth  in  words  from  his  parted  lips. 
I  can  almost  see  him  now. 

He  leans  toward  me,  and  I  bend  to  catch  his 
words,  while  he  calmly  says  with  a  firm  voice, 
'  Pirtle,  I  am  hit.'  For  an  instant  I  can  not 
speak ;  my  heart  almost  ceases  to  beat,  but  I  say, 
'Are  you  hit  hard,  General?'  'In  the  spine;  if 
I  have  to  leave  the  field,  you  stay  here  and  see 
that  all  goes  right.'  '  I  will,  General.'  And  then, 
after  a  pause,  I  say,  '  Good-by,'  not  knowing 
whether  he  is  going  or  not. 

"  The  enemy's  fire  is  heavier,  indicating  that 
they  are  reinforced,  while  our  men  drop  fast.  A 
moment  or  two  after,  in  order  to  strengthen  the 
thin  line,  he  sent  me  away  to  bring  up  a  regi 
ment  that  had  fallen  back  below  the  brow  of  the 
hill.  While  doing  this,  the  line  began  to  give 
way,  the  general's  horse  galloped  wildly  down  the 
hill,  and  I  felt  that  he  had  fallen  from  his  wound. 
My  horse  was  wounded  by  an  exploding  shell, 
escaping  from  me  in  his  terror  and  pain,  but  I 


CHICKAMAUGA.  35 

made  an  effort  to  get  back  to  the  spot  where  I 
had  left  the  general,  till  the  tide  of  men  retiring 
in  some  confusion,  forced  me  to  turn  from  my  di 
rect  path,  and  I  could  not  approach  the  scene,  as 
our  line  was  being  driven  back.  I  was  told  that 
General  Lytle  was  killed,  and  with  a  heart  almost 
bursting  with  emotion,  I  joined  in  the  retreat. 

"After  the  battle,  I  met  one  of  our  orderlies,  a 
soldier  of  the  Twenty-fourth  Wisconsin,  who  was 
ever  ready  to  do  the  utmost  for  the  general,  and 
who  said  he  reached  General  Lytle's  side  after  he 
had  fallen  from  his  horse,  lying  speechless,  but  he 
handed  him  his  sword  and  motioned  him  from  the 
field." 

The  desperate  final  dash,  which  Captain  Pirtle 
could  not  witness,  was  described  by  others  who 
saw  the  close  of  the  dread  drama.  Lytle  said  to 
his  staff  before  the  third  and  last  onset  which  he 
led  that  day,  " All  right,  men!  We  can  die  but 
once!  This  is  our  time  and  place.  Let  us 
charge !  " 

Captain  E.  B.  Parsons,  commander  of  Com 
pany  K,  Twenty-fourth  Wisconsin  Volunteers, 
whose  private  letters  to  his  parents  and  others 
written  at  Chattanooga,  in  October,  1863,  have 


36  WILLIAM    HAINES    LYTLE. 

been  consulted  in  the  preparation  of  this  memoir, 
narrating  the  particulars  of  the  fatal  charge,  says : 
"  From  the  moment  I  saw  an  aide  from  General 
Sheridan  ride  to  General  Lytle  with  an  order  for 
him  to  bring  his  brigade  into  action,  he  was  con 
stantly  in  my  sight  up  to  the  moment  he  was  shot. 
A  few  moments  before  we  were  ordered  in,  he 
rode  down  alone  near  where  I  was  standing,  and 
as  I  saluted  him,  he  wheeled  his  horse  around 
and,  speaking  to  the  men  of  my  company,  said : 
'  Boys,  if  we  whip  them  to-day,  we  will  eat  our 
Christmas  dinner  at  home.'  Soon  the  bugles 
rang  out  and  we  started,  our  regiment  following 
the  battery,  and  as  we  left  the  road  and  formed 
line  of  battle,  General  Lytle  and  his  staff  rode 
right  behind  the  center  of  our  regiment,  and  he 
remained  there  until  he  was  shot.  Almost  the 
last  words  he  uttered  were,  '  Brave,  brave,  brave 
boys ! '  As  I  was  looking  into  his  face,  a  ball 
struck  him,  and  seemed  to  me  must  have  struck 
him  in  the  face  or  head,  for  the  blood  flowed  from 
his  mouth.  He  did  not  fall  from  his  horse,  but 
one  of  his  staff  officers  eased  him  down  on  the 
ground." 

The  young  officer  who  received  the  dying  gen- 


CAPTAIN  GREENE'S  ACCOUNT.  37 

eral  into  his  arms  was  Captain  Howard  Greene, 
of  the  Twenty-fourth  Wisconsin.  In  a  letter  to 
Dr.  N.  Foster,  dated  November  i,  1863,  he  gives 
the  following  particulars  :  "  We  had  been  hotly 
engaged  with  the  enemy  for  nearly  half  an  hour 
before  he  was  struck.  At  the  time  the  general 
and  myself  were  on  horseback,  in  the  front  line. 
He  had  just  turned  to  give  an  order,  when  he 
was  struck  in  the  face.  He  was  no  sooner  struck 
than  he  reeled  in  his  saddle  and  I  saw  at  once 
that  he  was  seriously  wounded,  and  that,  unless 
caught  by  some  one,  he  would  fall  headlong  to 
the  ground.  I  jumped  from  my  horse,  caught 
him  by  the  head  and  shoulders,  and  lifted  him 
carefully  down.  He  recognized  me  as  I  caught 
him,  and  tried  to  speak."  .  .  .  "I  called 
Passmore  and  Sillcox,  two  of  the  general's  or 
derlies,  to  me,  and  we  then  started  with  the  body 
to  the  rear.  We  had  gone  but  a  short  distance 
when  we  met  Colonel  J.  F.  Harrison  coming  up 
with  a  regiment  he  had  been  rallying.  As  soon 
as  he  saw  us,  he  jumped  from  his  horse  and  helped 
us  carry  the  general.  A  few  steps  further  on, 
Sillcox  was  killed.  By  this  time  the  brigade  had 
broken,  and  was  going  past  us  to  the  rear.  It 


38  WILLIAM    HAINES   LYTLE. 

was  just  at  this  time  that  Lytle  opened  his  eyes 
and  tried  to  speak,  but  could  not.  I  asked  him 
if  he  wished  to  lie  down,  and  he  nodded."  .  .  . 
"Soon  after  this  the  general  breathed  his  last. 
Colonel  Harrison  then  left  to  rally  his  men,  and 
I  was  left  alone  with  the  body.  I  knelt  down  by 
the  general's  side  and  satisfied  myself  that  he  was 
indeed  lifeless.  By  this  time  the  rebels  were 
closing  in  from  our  left  and  were  not  a  hundred 
feet  away,  and,  feeling  satisfied  that  I  could  be 
of  no  further  use  to  the  general,  I  also  went  to 
the  rear." 

Within  less  than  a  month  after  this  letter  was 
written,  the  brave  Captain  Greene  was  himself 
killed  (November  25th),  in  the  charge  at  Mission 
Ridge. 

The  gallant  Colonel  Wm.  B.  McCreery,  of  the 
Twenty-first  Michigan  Infantry,  was  one  of  those 
who  helped  to  bear  the  general  from  the  field, 
and  while  so  doing  was  himself  wounded,  taken 
prisoner,  and  afterward  confined  in  Libby. 

General  Lytle  had  been  carried  to  a  green 
knoll  under  a  tree,  where  his  body  was  afterward 
recognized  by  confederate  officers.  The  respect 
ful  and  even  reverential  care  which  it  received  at 


CHICKAMAUGA.  39 

the  hands  of  the  enemy  was  owing  largely  to  the 
fact  that  the  dead  general  was  recognized  not 
only  as  a  distinguished  soldier,  but  also  as  a  poet. 
A  confederate  major,  Douglas  West,  of  General 
Zack  Deas'  brigade,  was  requested  by  a  federal 
officer  to  protect  the  body  of  the  dead  general. 
West  relates  that,  on  hearing  the  name  Lytle,  he 
was  thrilled,  being  "  familiar  with  the  poem  which 
made  the  name  immortal."  Major  West  took  in 
his  keeping  the  general's  sword-belt  and  scabbard, 
pistol,  portmonnaie,  memorandum  book,  spurs, 
and  even  his  shoulder-straps.  "That  night,"  he 
says,  ' '  in  our  bivouac  by  the  camp-fire,  we  read 
the  papers,  letters,  and  scraps  of  poetry  that  we 
found  in  the  pocket-book." 

The  confederate  officer,  Colonel  Wm.  Miller 
Owen,  in  his  reminiscences  of  the  civil  war,  relates 
that,  while  riding  over  the  battle-field  of  Chicka- 
amauga,  on  September  20,  1863,  he  came  upon 
the  body  of  General  Lytle,  which  he  recognized 
as  that  of  an  old  friend.  He  says  :  '  'A  confederate 
soldier  was  standing  guard  over  the  body.  Dis 
mounting,  I  asked  the  man  his  instructions,  and 
he  replied  :  '  I  am  here  to  take  charge  of  this  body, 
and  to  allow  no  one  to  touch  it.'  'All  right,'  I 


40  WILLIAM   HAINES   LYTLE. 

said :  '  I  hope  you  will  do  it.'  Lytle  was  dressed 
in  fatigue  uniform.  His  shoulder-straps,  one  star, 
indicated  his  rank  of  a  brigadier-general.  He 
wore  high  riding  boots,  a  regulation  overcoat, 
dark  kid-gloves.  While  standing  beside  the  body, 
General  Preston  rode  up,  and  asked :  '  Who  have 
you  there  ?'  I  replied  :  '  General  Lytle,  of  Cin 
cinnati.'  'Ah!'  said  General  Preston,  'General 
Lytle,  the  son  of  my  old  friend  Bob  Lytle !  I 
am  sorry  it  is  so.'  And  he  then  dismounted,  and 
was  much  affected.  After  asking  the  sentinel  his 
instructions,  and  receiving  the  same  answer  I  had 
obtained,  he  said  to  him :  '  See  that  you  do  it, 
my  man.'  " 

A  beautiful  instance  of  personal  friendship  be 
tween  enemies  in  war,  was  afforded  by  the  con 
duct  of  a  confederate  surgeon,  E.  W.  Thomason, 
who  had  been  a  fellow-soldier  with  Lytle  in  Mex 
ico,  and  who,  recognizing  the  body  of  his  old 
comrade  on  the  field  of  Chickamauga,  had  it  carried 
to  his  tent,  gave  it  decent  burial,  and  marked  the 
grave.  The  wounds  on  the  face  of  the  dead 
officer  his  southern  friend  covered  first  with  green 
leaves,  then  with  a  lace  net  and  a  fine  cambric 
handkerchief.  Nor  did  a  thoughtful  sympathy 


FUNERAL   OBSEQUIES.  41 

forget  a  still  more  delicate  care.  The  surgeon 
clipped  some  locks  of  the  slain  soldier's  hair,  and 
sent  them  to  the  sisters  of  Lytle  in  Cincinnati. 
The  articles  found  on  his  person  were  forwarded 
also.  In  his  pocket-book  were  found  a  printed 
copy  of  a  poem,  of  unknown  authorship,  entitled, 
"  Company  K,"  and  a  letter  from  his  sister,  Mrs. 
Broadwell. 

The  remains  of  General  Lytle  had  been  buried 
twenty  days  when  they  were  recovered  by  Col 
onel  Ward  of  the  Tenth  Ohio,  who  bore  a  flag 
of  truce  to  the  confederate  lines.  An  escort  of 
ten  men  from  the  Tenth  Ohio,  in  charge  of  Lieu 
tenant  Donahue,  conveyed  the  body  to  Louisville, 
where  it  was  met  by  his  brother-in-law,  Dr.  Fos 
ter,  and  placed  on  the  mail-boat  Nightingale. 
The  boat  reached  Cincinnati  at  twelve  o'clock, 
Wednesday,  October  21.  On  their  arrival,  the 
remains  were  received  by  a  company  of  sixty 
men  from  the  Seventh  Ohio  militia,  under  com 
mand  of  Captain  R.  W.  Carroll,  and  were  es 
corted  to  the  court-house  and  laid  in  state  in  the 
rotunda.  The  black  coffin,  with  massive  silver 
mountings,  was  placed  on  a  dais  in  the  center  of 
the  room,  and  was  strewn  with  white  roses.  Four 


42  WILLIAM    HAINES    LYTLE. 

sentries  guarded  the  body.  One  of  these,  a  pri 
vate  of  the  old  Tenth,  having  been  ordered  to 
keep  still  until  relieved,  stood  at  "  order  arms" 
for  two  hours,  without  moving  a  muscle,  no  one 
relieving  him  by  some  neglect.  Being  asked  how 
long  he  intended  to  remain  on  guard  in  that  rigid 
attitude,  he  said:  "Forever,  if  not  regularly  re 
lieved."  Such  was  the  soldier's  idea  of  discipline 
and  fidelity. 

During  the  afternoon  a  multitude  of  citizens, 
men  and  women,  poured  into  the  rotunda  to  look 
upon  the  casket  that  contained  their  hero's  clay, 
over  which  the  tattered  flag  of  the  Tenth  Ohio 
drooped  its  mournful  folds.  Of  those  who  paid 
tributes  of  grief  that  day,  no  one  was  more  sin 
cere  than  the  aged  colored  servant  who  had  been 
with  General  Lytle  in  his  campaigns,  and  now 
stood  weeping  at  the  foot  of  the  coffin. 

At  sunset  the  body  was  taken  from  the  court 
house,  and  escorted  to  the  residence  of  General 
Lytle's  brother-in-law,  Mr.  S.  J.  Broadwell. 

The  funeral  obsequies  of  General  Lytle  were 
conducted  with  much  solemnity,  on  the  afternoon 
of  Thursday,  October  22,  1863.  From  an  excel 
lent  editorial  report,  published  in  the  Daily  Com- 


FUNERAL   OBSEQUIES.  43 

mercial,  the  following  account  of  the  solemn  cere 
monies  is  condensed. 

At  one  o'clock  the  doors  of  Christ  Church,  on 
Fourth  street,  were  opened  to  the  ladies,  many  of 
whom  were  already  waiting.  Many  of  the  mothers 
and  wives  and  sisters  of  those  who  had  gone  out 
with  the  brave  Lytle  to  fight  the  battles  of  their 
county,  took  this  opportunity  of  showing  that  re 
spect  for  the  fallen  hero  which  they  would  wish 
to  have  shown  to  their  own  dear  ones.  To  pre 
vent  crowding  the  church,  no  gentlemen  were 
admitted  at  first,  save  those  mentioned  in  the 
order  of  the  day.  The  judges  of  the  courts, 
members  of  the  bar,  the  city  council,  the  clergy, 
and  others,  entered  and  were  seated  in  bodies  by 
themselves.  All  the  room  except  that  required 
for  the  relatives  and  special  friends  was  thus  oc 
cupied. 

At  two  o'clock  the  dirge  from  the  band  in  the 
street  announced  the  approach  of  the  cortege. 
The  deep  and  solemn  tones  of  the  organ  inside 
the  church  responded  to  the  music  from  without. 
At  the  door  the  remains  of  the  departed  general 
were  met  by  Bishop  Mcllvaine  and  Rev.  Mr. 
McCarty,  pastor  of  the  church,  and  as  with 


44  WILLIAM    HAINES   LYTLE. 

measured  steps  they  led  the  way  to  the  aitar,  the 
congregation  rose,  and  the  bishop  read  from  the 
liturgy.  Prayer  and  an  anthem  closed  the  ser 
vices.  The  guard  from  the  Tenth  Ohio,  who 
had  attended  the  body  faithfully  from  the  day 
it  left  Chattanooga,  then  carried  the  coffin  back 
to  the  hearse ;  the  mourners  and  several  delega 
tions  followed,  and  entered  the  carriages  in  wait 
ing. 

The  streets  were  lined  with  spectators,  and 
Fourth  street,  from  Broadway  to  Race,  was  com 
pletely  blocked.  Along  the  line  of  march,  many 
beautiful  flags  were  hung  out,  tied  with  crape, 
and  in  all  parts  of  the  city  they  drooped  at  half 
mast. 

The  military  display  was  the  largest  ever  seen 
at  any  funeral  obsequies  in  this  city.  Our  four 
militia  regiments  were  out  in  force.  After  the 
long  lines  of  infantry  in  platoons,  with  arms  re 
versed,  and  marching  to  the  solemn  dirges  played 
by  the  bands,  came  a  battery  of  artillery,  two 
guns  abreast. 

The  hearse,  surrounded  by  a  cluster  of  distin 
guished  pall-bearers,  followed  the  battery.  It  was 
drawn  by  six  milk-white  horses,  with  black 


FUNERAL   OBSEQUIES.  46 

plumes,  and  was  draped  with  emblems  of  mourn 
ing.  The  coffin  was  partially  covered  with  a 
beautiful  silk  flag.  Behind  the  hearse  stepped 
the  charger  of  the  departed  hero,  with  the  boots 
of  the  fallen  rider  depending  from  either  side  of 
the  saddle. 

Carriages  containing  his  staff  and  relatives 
came  next,  while  near  by  walked  the  aged  negro 
servant  of  the  general,  who  was  once  the  waiting 
man  of  Commodore  Perry,  now  following  the 
dead  body  of  his  second  hero-master  to  the  grave. 

Not  far  behind,  the  tattered  banner  of  the 
Tenth  Ohio  was  borne  by  some  of  the  sturdy 
arms,  which,  under  its  folds,  had  struck  heavily 
at  the  rebellion  on  more  than  one  field.  It  is 
now  a  mere  tatter  of  silk,  grimed  with  expo 
sure.  It  was  closely  furled  and  inclosed  in  fes 
toons  of  crape,  tied  at  intervals  with  black  silk 
ribbons. 

An  immense  retinue  of  carriages,  containing 
the  mayor  and  city  officials,  bar,  numerous  navy 
and  army  officers,  and  many  distinguished  private 
citizens,  brought  up  the  rear  of  the  procession. 
The  police,  handsomely  uniformed,  were  in  ad 
vance.  The  procession  occupied  about  half  an 


46  WILLIAM    HAINES    LYTLE. 

hour  in  passing.  It  proceeded  out  Freeman 
street  to  Hamilton  road,  where  the  escort  drew 
aside  and  permitted  the  hearse  and  carriages  to 
pass  on  to  Spring  Grove,  where  all  that  is  mor 
tal  of  the  gifted  and  noble-hearted  Lytle  now 
reposes,  near  the  city  of  his  birth  and  love. 

A  large  number  of  distinguished  officers,  in 
cluding,  probably,  all  who  could  reach  the  city, 
attended  the  funeral  as  mourners.  Among  the 
number  was  General  Stanley,  commanding  the 
cavalry  of  the  Army  of  the  Cumberland. 

The  Lytle  monument  stands  in  a  beautiful 
cemetery  in  Cincinnati's  suburbs.  It  is  of  the 
Grecian  order  of  architecture,  twenty-four  and  a 
half  feet  high,  and  is  made  of  pure  Carrara  mar 
ble.  Upon  the  east  and  west  sides  are  sculptured 
suspended  laurel  wreaths.  The  east  side  has  the 
name  of  William  Lytle ;  the  west,  that  of  Robert  T. 
Lytle.  The  north  side  shows  the  symbolic  scroll 
and  pen;  underneath  is  inscribed  the  name  of 
General  William  H.  Lytle.  The  south  side  is 
adorned  by  a  bas-relief  representing  the  battle 
field  of  Chickamauga.  The  general,  seated  on 
his  horse,  and  with  drawn  sword,  is  in  the  act  of 
leading  the  charging  columns  on  that  fatal  day. 


CHARACTER   OF    LYTLE.  47 

The  bas-relief  is  surmounted  by  a  cap  adorned 
with  shield  and  cross-swords.  Above  all  these 
springs  a  thirteen  fluted  column,  suggestively 
broken  off.  On  the  top  is  an  eagle  holding  a 
garland  of  laurel  leaves.  It  is  a  tasteful  and  ap 
propriate  tribute  of  affection  from  the  general's 
sisters  to  their  family. 

The  quality  of  W.  H.  Lytle's  personality  was 
shown  in  all  he  said  and  did.  In  him,  the  boy 
was  father  to  the  man,  and  his  days  were  "  linked 
each  to  each,"  with  consistent  achievements. 
The  reputation  which  the  public  gave  him  repre 
sented  truly  his  character.  There  were  "  no 
tricks  "  in  his  "  plain  and  honest  faith."  That  he 
was  a  man  of  energy,  of  integrity,  of  courage,  of 
generosity,  every  act  of  his  life  illustrates.  The 
martial  impulse  and  habit  controlled  his  destiny, 
molded  his  thinking,  and  colored  his  language. 
Nevertheless,  he  loved  peace  and  the  quiet  em 
ployments  of  the  scholar.  Though  he  did  not 
marry,  his  verses  give  ample  testimony  that  he 
loved  and  honored  woman,  and  had  strong  do 
mestic  instincts  as  well  as  ardent  passions.  In 
one  of  his  gay  madrigals  written  in  the  year  be 
fore  his  death,  he  sang : 


48  WILLIAM  'HAINES    LYTLE. 

"  But  when  the  birds  of  morning  sing, 

And  all  the  wars  are  over, 
Our  lances  at  your  feet  we'll  fling, 
And  then  we'll  play  the  lover." 

The  chivalric  temper  was  shown  throughout  his 
history ;  he  was  the  Bayard  of  a  democratic  land. 
Masculine,  vigorous,  gallant,  he  had  in  him  the 
supreme  virtue,  manliness.  Manly  he  was,  and 
also  gentlemanly.  General  Banning  relates  that 
when  General  Lytle  was  preparing  himself  for 
his  terrible  last  battle,  he  was  observed  to  be  in 
full  uniform,  and  while  pulling  on  his  gloves  said 
merrily,  in  reply  to  a  question  why  he  had  taken 
such  care  with  his  toilet,  "  I  have  tried  to  live  like 
a  gentleman,  and  I  propose  to  die  like  one." 

General  Lytle  was  a  handsome  man,  of  slight 
and  graceful  build,  but  well  developed,  erect  and 
nervous.  Like  that  of  Wordsworth's  Wanderer, 
"his  whole  figure  breathed  intelligence."  His 
complexion  was  delicate,  of  a  rosy  softness  al 
most  feminine,  his  eyes  were  gray,  and  his 
brown  hair  lay  in  rich,  silken  masses  over  a  high 
forehead.  The  mouth  was  firm,  indicative  of 
resolute  character.  Altogether  the  face  was  ex 
pressive  of  intellect  and  sentiment — an  interesting 


LYTLE,    THE   POET.  49 

face,  capable  of  assuming  the  stern  frown  of 
anger,  and  the  sweetest  smile  of  affection. 

To  summarize  the  hero's  life  and  character  in 
a  few  lines,  we  borrow  the  words  of  the  great 
Ben  Jonson,  who,  in  his  ode  to  the  memory  of 
Sir  H.  Morison,  exactly  portrays  William  H. 
Lytle.  We  have  only  to  substitute  one  name  for 
the  other. 

"Alas  !  but  Morison  fell  young; 

He  never  fell — thou  fall'st,  my  tongue, 
He  stood  a  soldier  to  the  last  right  end, 
A  perfect  patriot  and  a  noble  friend; 

But  most,  a  virtuous  son, 

All  offices  were  done 
By  him  so  ample,  full,  and  round, 
In  weight,  in  measure,  number,  sound, 
As,  though  his  age  imperfect  might  appear, 
His  life  was  of  humanity  the  sphere." 

Within  the  period  of  thirty-seven  years,  meas 
uring  the  short  life  of  William  H.  Lytle,  he 
proved  himself  a  good  scholar,  a  successful  law 
yer,  an  influential  politician  and  legislator,  and  a 
military  commander  of  great  courage,  skill  and 
popularity.  He  was  also  an  orator  of  uncommon 
ability.  To  his  triumphs  achieved  at  the  bar,  on 


50  WILLIAM   HAINES   LYTLE. 

the  floor  of  the  House  of  Representatives,  and 
in  the  army,  must  be  added  his  accomplishments 
in  literature,  especially  poetry.  Mr.  Leslie  J. 
Perry,  of  Washington,  D.  C. ,  in  a  discriminating 
article  on  the  "Warrior-Poet,"  ventures  to  say 
that  "Notwithstanding  his  military  fame  already 
earned,  notwithstanding  the  high  encomiums 
passed  upon  him  by  his  commander  and  brother 
officers,  I  judge  that  William  Haines  Lytle  is  al 
ready  better,  and  will  be  longer,  remembered  as 
the  author  of  a  little  poem  than  as  a  soldier  of 
the  republic."  Time  alone  can  verify  or  disprove 
the  correctness  of  this  opinion  ;  but  there  seems 
no  reason  for  not  prophesying  that  Lytle's  sword 
and  pen  will  be  remembered  together,  and  that 
each  will  add  sacredness  to  the  other.  It  is  no 
detraction  from  the  meed  of  the  most  famous 
martial  chieftain  to  magnify  his  literary  victories. 
Renown  in  arms  is  doubly  dignified  in  the  hero 
illustrious  in  letters.  For,  after  all  is  said,  there 
is  ineffable  truth  in  the  line  of  the  Ohio  poet  who 
sings, 

"  To  be  immortal  thou  must  think  a  thought." 

So  fugitive  is  the  fame  even  of  the  most  emi 
nent  and  worthy,  that  their  memory  is  apt  to  fade 


LYTLE,    THE   POET.  51 

fast  as  the  flowers  on  the  grave.  Wars  come  and 
pass,  but  the  conflict  of  life,  like  a  perpetual 
Chickamauga,  storms  on  around  the  generations, 
and  yesterday's  idol  is  forgotten  to-day.  There 
fore  it  is  no  small  or  common  distinction  to  gain 
by  sword  or  pen,  or  both,  such  recognition  among 
men  as  insures,  not  immortality  on  earth,  but  even 
fifty  years  of  posthumous  fame.  More  than  thirty 
years  have  now  elapsed  since  General  Lytle 
passed  away,  and  the  interest  in  his  poetry,  far 
from  abating,  is  now  keener  than  ever  before. 

There  are  poets  of  repute,  of  whose  verse  not 
so  much  as  a  single  stanza  finds  lodgment  in  the 
popular  memory;  there  are  poems  of  unknown 
authorship  of  such  haunting  charm  that  every 
body  knows  them  by  heart ;  and  now  and  then 
a  rare  soul,  born  gifted  with  the  faculty  divine, 
leaves  his  name  embalmed  in  some  inspired  lyric 
which  he  makes.  Such  a  favored  being  was 
William  Haines  Lytle.  For  he  produced  in  a 
happy  creative  hour,  one  of  those  spontaneous 
songs, 

"  Which  always  find  us  young, 
And  always  keep  us  so." 

The  piece  referred  to  is,  of  course,  the  "An- 


52  WILLIAM    RAINES   LYTLE. 

tony  and  Cleopatra,"  a  poem  unrivaled  in  popu 
larity  by  any  thing  yet  written  in  the  Ohio  Valley, 
excepting  Kinney's  beautiful  lyric,  "  Rain  on  the 
Roof." 

Bryant's  "Library  of  Poetry  and  Song"  is 
held  responsible  for  having  first  put  into  circula 
tion  the  absurd  fiction  that  Lytle's  famous  poem 
was  written  while  the  author  lay  mortally  wounded 
after  the  battle  of  Chickamauga.  The  true  his 
tory  of  the  composition  of  the  poem  is  this: 
"Antony  and  Cleopatra"  was  written  at  the  Lytle 
homestead  in  the  summer  of  1858.  The  original 
manuscript — long  in  the  possession  of  the  poet's 
sister,  Mrs.  Josephine  R.  Foster — was  dashed  off  in 
a  glow  of  creative  excitement  by  the  author,  who 
left  it  lying  upon  a  writing  table  in  his  private 
room.  There  it  was  found  by  Wm.  W.  Fosdick, 
an  intimate  friend  of  Lytle,  and  himself  a  poet 
of  more  than  local  celebrity.  "Who  wrote  this, 
Lytle?"  inquired  Fosdick,  after  reading  the 
poem.  "Why,  I  did,"  answered  Lytle;  "How 
do  you  like  it  ?  "  Fosdick  expressed  admiration 
for  the  verses,  and  taking  the  liberty  of  a  literary 
comrade,  he  carried  a  copy  of  the  manuscript 


LYTLE   A   POET.  53 

away  and  gave  it  to  the  editor  of  the  ' '  Cincinnati 
Commercial,"  with  the  explanatory  note :  "  EDS. 
COM. — The  following  lines  from  our  gifted  and 
gallant  townsman,  General  William  H.  Lytle,  we 
think,  constitute  one  of  the  most  masterly  lyrics 
which  has  ever  adorned  American  poetry ;  and 
we  predict  a  popularity  and  perpetuity  for  it  unsur 
passed  by  any  Western  production. — W.  W.  F." 
The  poem  appeared  in  the  ' '  Commercial "  on 
July  29,  1858. 

The  poem  "Antony  and  Cleopatra"  is  enjoyed 
not  only  by  the  uncritical  reader,  "too  simple  to 
admire,"  but  by  exacting  judges  in  literary  art. 
For,  though  not  a  perfect  piece  of  artistic  work, 
it  is  of  masterly  power,  and  sustained  excellence 
of  style.  The  vigor  never  flags,  the  passionate 
swell  of  its  music  mounts  higher  and  higher  to 
the  climax  in  the  last  line.  No  lapse  into  bathos, 
no  straining  for  rhetorical  effect  impairs  the  dig 
nity  of  the  verse  which  moves  on  with  a  rapid 
and  intense  but  sincere  and  solemn  energy  from 
the  beginning  to  the  close.  It  is  hard  to  decide 
whether  the  dramatic  or  the  lyric  element  pre 
dominates,  for,  while  the  imperative  song  recalls 


54  WILLIAM   HAINES   LYTLE. 

action  and  the  rush  of  war,  subjective  feeling  sur 
charges  every  stanza — and,  while  remembering 
Rome  and  glory,  Antony  dies  triumphing  in  the 
love  of  Egypt. 

The  strong  and  beautiful  poem,  "Antony  and 
Cleopatra,"  is  the  author's  masterpiece,  certainly, 
but  not  by  any  means  his  only  good  poem.  The 
reader  will  find  among  the  pieces,  now  for  the 
first  time  collected,  several  productions  of  such 
merit  as  to  demonstrate  the  injustice  of  ranking 
Lytle  among  the  "  one-poem  poets,"  though  some 
of  these  rank  very  high.  The  apostrophe  to 
' '  Popocatapetl "  is  a  fine  poetical  conception, 
well  wrought  out  and  shows  how  carefully  this 
poet  was  capable  of  finishing  his  work,  which, 
it  must  be  admitted,  he  too  seldom  took  pains 
to  elaborate.  "  Macdon  aid's  Drummer"  is  a 
brilliant  descriptive  ballad,  full  of  pathos.  The 
"  Brigand's  Song,"  "  Jaqueline,"  "  Sailing  on  the 
Sea,"  and  "The  Volunteers,"  picture  in  the 
glowing  colors  of  romance,  the  adventures  of  love 
and  war,  and  the  objective  delights  and  darings 
of  hot  blooded  youth. 

The  martial  strain   best  suited  the  genius  of 


CRITICAL   ESTIMATE.  55 

Lytle's  muse.  The  "Antony  and  Cleopatra"  is, 
essentially,  a  song  of  war.  The  greater  number 
of  the  selections  in  the  book  treat  of  military  and 
patriotic  subjects,  and  the  war  poems  are  un 
doubtedly  superior  to  the  rest.  All  along  the 
pages  are  scattered  epithets  and  phrases,  exult 
ing  in  "the  big  war,"  " the  glittering  guard," 
"clanking  spurs,"  "waving  plumes,"  "free 
man's  sword,"  "bugle  note,"  and  "roll  of 
drums." 

Next  after  the  war  songs,  in  number  and  in 
merit,  come  madrigals  of  love,  of  which  "Fare 
well,"  "  Sweet  May  Moon,"  "  Valentine,"  and 
"  Two  Years  Ago,"  are  good  examples.  The  most 
artistic  of  the  poems  of  the  amatory  class  is  the 
passionate  "Anacreontic,"  especially  the  first  two 
stanzas,  which,  in  warm  imagery  and  melodious 
singing  quality,  suggest  the  lost  art  of  Marlowe  and 
Ben  Jonson.  But  the  sentiment  and  also  the  style 
of  Lytle's  verse  are  not  much  influenced  by  the 
Elizabethan  literature.  They  belong  more  to  the 
romantic  school  of  the  first  part  of  the  nineteenth 
century. 

The  influence  of  Byron,  Moore,  and  Shelley  is 


56  WILLIAM   HAINES   LYTLE. 

plainly  discernible  in  the  form,  and  to  some  ex 
tent  in  the  substance,  of  some  of  Ly tie's  poetry- 
In  the  "Haunted  River,"  and  one  or  two  other 
pieces,  echoes  seem  to  come  from  the  sounding 
gallery  of  Edgar  A.  Poe. 

Critics  will  notice,  in  the  poems  here  collected, 
many  hackneyed,  sentimental  expressions,  faulty 
metaphors,  and  defects  in  meter  and  rhyme. 
But  we  must  not  forget  that  General  Lytle  had 
little  leisure  for  literary  study  and  composition, 
and  made  no  claim  to  proficiency  in  the  artistry 
of  poetics ;  nor  were  the  poems  ever  subjected  to 
the  author's  careful  revision  for  publication.  He 
wrote  for  pleasure  and  from  impulse,  more  ab 
sorbed  in  the  poetical  contents  of  his  work  than 
in  precise,  technical  forms.  Those  pieces  marked 
by  a  date  earlier  than  1847,  are  to  be  judged  as 
juvenile  productions. 

One  can  not  read  the  poems  of  W.  H.  Lytle 
without  being  impressed  by  a  serious  tone  of  mo 
rality  and  religion  which  pervades  them.  They 
breathe,  besides,  pure  patriotism,  tender  regard 
for  kindred,  and  loyalty  to  friends.  The  poet,  in 
his  solitary  hours,  meditated  deeply  on  human 


CRITICAL   ESTIMATE.  57 

life  and  destiny,  and  read  deep  lessons  in  nature 
— in  trees  and  streams,  in  mountains  and  stars. 
His  moods  were  sometimes  tinged  with  melan 
choly,  that  infinite  disappointment  which  comes 
to  those  who  vainly  seek  on  earth  to  realize  the 
poet's  visions  and  dreams. 


POEMS. 


POEMS. 


ANTONY  AND  CLEOPATRA. 

I  am  dying,  Egypt,  dying  ! 

Ebbs  the  crimson  life-tide  fast, 
And  the  dark  Plutonian  shadows 

Gather  on  the  evening  blast; 
Let  thine  arm,  oh  Queen,  enfold  me, 

Hush  thy  sobs  and  bow  thine  ear, 
Listen  to  the  great  heart  secrets 

Thou,  and  thou  alone,  must  hear. 

Though  my  scarred  and  veteran  legions 

Bear  their  eagles  high  no  more, 
And  my  wrecked  and  scattered  galleys 

Strew  dark  Actium's  fatal  shore ; 
Though  no  glittering  guards  surround  me, 

Prompt  to  do  their  master's  will, 
I  must  perish  like  a  Roman, 

Die  the  great  Triumvir  still. 

(61) 


62  WILLIAM    HAINES   LYTLE. 

Let  not  Caesar's  servile  minions, 

Mock  the  lion  thus  laid  low ; 
'T  was  no  foeman's  arm  that  felled  him, 

'T  was  his  own  that  struck  the  blow— 
His  who,  pillowed  on  thy  bosom, 

Turned  aside  from  glory's  ray — 
His  who,  drunk  with  thy  caresses, 

Madly  threw  a  world  away. 

Should  the  base  plebeian  rabble 

Dare  assail  my  name  at  Rome, 
Where  the  noble  spouse,  Octavia, 

Weeps  within  her  widowed  home, 
Seek  her;  say  the  gods  bear  witness, — 

Altars,  augurs,  circling  wings, — 
That  her  blood,  with  mine  commingled. 

Yet  shall  mount  the  thrones  of  kings. 

And  for  thee,  star-eyed  Egyptian — 

Glorious  sorceress  of  the  Nile  ! 
Light  the  path  to  Stygian  horrors 

With  the  splendors  of  thy  smile ; 
Give  the  Caesar  crowns  and  arches, 

Let  his  brow  the  laurel  twine, 
I  can  scorn  the  senate's  triumphs, 

Triumphing  in  love  like  thine. 


ANTONY   AND   CLEOPATRA.  63 

I  am  dying,  Egypt,  dying ; 

Hark  !   the  insulting  foeman's  cry ; 
They  are  coming ;  quick,  my  falchion ! 

Let  me  front  them  ere  I  die. 
Ah,  no  more  amid  the  battle 

Shall  my  heart  exulting  swell; 
Isis  and  Osiris  guard  thee, — 

Cleopatra,  Rome,  farewell ! 

1858. 


64  WILLIAM    HAINES   LYTLE. 


POPOCATAPETL. 

Pale  peak,  afar 

Gilds  thy  white  pinacle,  a  single  star, 
While  sharply  on  the  deep  blue  sky  thy  snows 
In  death-like  calm  repose. 

The  nightingale 

Through  "Mira  Flores"  bowers  repeats  her  tale. 
And  every  rose  its  perfumed  censer  swings 
With  vesper  offerings. 

But  not  for  thee, 

Diademed  king,  this  love-born  minstrelsy, 
Nor  yet  the  tropic  gales  that  gently  blow 
Through  these  blest  vales  below. 

Around  thy  form 

Hover  the  mid-air  fiends,  the  lightning  warm, 
Thunder,  and  by  the  driving  hurricane, 
In  wrecks  thy  pines  are  lain. 

Deep  in  thy  heart 

Burn  on  vast  fires,  struggling  to  rend  apart 
Their  prison  walls,  and  then  in  wrath  be  hurled 
Blazing  upon  the  world. 


POPOCATAPETL.  65 

In  vain  conspire 

Against  thy  majesty  tempest  and  fire ; 
The  elemental  wars  of  madness  born, 

Serene,  thou  laugh'st  to  scorn. 

Calm  art  thou  now 

As  when  the  Aztec,  on  thine  awful  brow, 
Gazed  on  some  eve  like  this  from  Chalco's  shore, 
Where  lives  his  name  no  more. 

And  thou  hast  seen 

Glitter  in  dark  denies  the  ominous  sheen 

Of  lances,  and  hast  heard  the  battle-cry 

Of  Castile's  chivalry. 

And  yet  again 

Hast  seen  strange  banners  steering  o'er  the  main. 
When  from  his  eyrie  soared  to  conquest  forth 
The  Eagle  of  the  North. 

Yet,  at  thy  feet, 

While  rolling  on,  the  tides  of  empire  beat, 
Thou  art,  oh  mountain,  on  thy  world-piled  throne, 
Of  all,  unchanged  alone. 


66  WILLIAM    HAINES    LYTLE. 

Type  of  a  power 

Supreme,  thy  solemn  silence  at  this  hour 
Speaks  to  the  nations  of  the  Almighty  Word 
Which  at  thy  birth  was  stirred. 

Prophet  sublime ! 

Wide  on  the  morning's  wings  will  float  the  chime 
Of  martial  horns ;  yet  'mid  the  din  thy  spell 
Shall  sway  me  still — farewell ! 


BRIGAND'S  SONG.  67 


BRIGAND'S  SONG. 

Through  the"  Sierra's  wild  ravines 

An  old  grandee  of  Spain 
Is  passing  with  his  dark-eyed  girls 

And  all  his  gorgeous  train ; 
The  spoil  is  rich,  the  guard  is  weak, 

The  way  is  rough  and  long, 
So  bathe  your  lips  in  foaming  wine, 
And  chant  your  parting  song. 
Drink,  brothers,  drink, 

Drink,  men,  and  away ; 
Adieu,  senoras,  in  your  smiles 
We  '11  bask  before  the  day. 

The  moon  is  in  the  azure  skies, 

The  stars  are  by  her  side, 
They  glitter  in  her  path  of  light 

Like  maids  around  a  bride ; 
Like  night-birds  let  us  sally  forth 

Where  booty  may  be  won ; 
So  whet  the  poignard's  polished  edge, 

And  gird  your  carbines  on. 


68  WILLIAM   RAINES   LYTLE. 

Arm,  brothers,  arm, 
Arm,  men,  and  away ; 

Adieu,  senoras,  in  your  smiles 
We'll  bask  before  the  day. 

All  hail  to-night ;  for  since  the  world 

Was  made  in  times  of  old, 
The  day  has  been  for  coward  knaves, 

The  night  time  for  the  bold ; 
Hark!  to  the  mule-bells'  distant  chime, 

Our  lady,  grant  a  boon, 
That  ere  an  hour  the  ring  of  steel 

May  drown  their  jingling  tune. 
Mount,  brothers,  mount, 

Mount,  men,  and  away ; 
Adieu,  senoras,  in  your  smiles 

We'll  bask  before  the  day. 

To  horse !  Hurra — with  thundering  press 

Over  the  plain  we  glide, 
Around  the  startled  hamlet's  edge 

And  up  the  mountain  side ; 
With  waving  plumes  and  clanking  spurs, 

We  sweep  along  like  wind; 


BRIGAND'S  SONG.  69 

Our  beacon  on  the  rugged  cliff 
Is  flaming  far  behind. 
Ride,  brothers,  ride, 

Ride,  men,  and  away ; 
Adieu,  senoras,  in  your  smiles 
We  '11  bask  before  the  day. 


70  WILLIAM    HAINES    LYTLE. 


SAILING  ON  THE  SEA. 

"  Where  is  my  heart's  dearest, 

Where  can  he  be  ?  " 
"  In  his  tall  ship,  Marguerite, 

Sailing  on  the  sea; 
Sailing  with  a  gallant  crew, 

Winds  a-blowing  free  " — 
"  Ah !  he  vowed  he  soon  would  come 

Home  to  wed  with  me  !  " 

"Should  he  never,  Marguerite, 

Come  back  to  thee, 
Thou  canst  find  another  love — 

I  thy  love  will  be ; 
Then  far  away  to  Indian  isles 

Let  us  quickly  flee, 
Pine  no  more  for  truant  hearts 

Sailing  on  the  sea." 

Flashed  her  eye  in  anger, 

Proudly  turned  she 
From  the  muffled  cavalier 

Bending  on  his  knee ; 


SAILING  ON   THE    SEA.  71 

But  away  his  cloak  he  flung, 

"Marguerite!  "  cried  he — 
'T  was  her  lover  !  whom  she  thought 

Sailing  on  the  sea. 


72  WILLIAM   HAINES   LYTLE. 


ANACREONTIC. 

Nay,  frown  not  fairest,  chide  no  more, 

Nor  blame  the  blushing  wine ; 
Its  fiery  kiss  is  innocent, 

When  thrills  the  pulse  with  thine. 
So  leave  the  goblet  in  my  hand, 

But  vail  thy  glances  bright, 
Lest  wine  and  beauty  mingling 

Should  wreck  my  soul  to-night. 

Then,  Ida,  to  the  ancient  rim 

In  sculptured  beauty  rare, 
Bow  down  thy  red-arched  lip  and  quaff 

The  wine  that  conquers  care ; 
Or  breathe  upon  the  shining  cup 

Till  that  its  perfume  be 
Sweet  as  the  scent  of  orange  groves, 

Upon  some  tropic  sea. 

And  while  thy  fingers  idly  stray 

In  dalliance  o'er  the  lyre, 
Sing  to  me,  love,  some  rare  old  song 

That  gushed  from  heart  of  fire — 


ANACREONTIC.  73 

Song  such  as  Grecian  phalanx  hymned 
When  freedom's  field  was  won, 

And  Persia's  glory  with  the  light 
Faded  at  Marathon. 

Sing  till  the  shouts  of  armed  men 

Ring  bravely  out  once  more : 
Sing  till  again  the  ghost-white  tents 

Shine  on  the  moon-lit  shore ; 
Bid  from  their  melancholy  graves 

The  buried  hopes  to  start, 
I  knew  ere  many  a  storm  had  swept 

The  dew-drops  from  my  heart. 

Sing  the  deep  memories  of  the  past, 

My  soul  shall  follow  thee, 
Its  boundless  depths  re-echoing 

Thy  glorious  minstrelsy ; 
And  as  the  wild  vibrations  hang 

Enfettered  on  the  air, 
I'll  drink,  thy  white  arms  round  me,  love, 

The  wine  that  conquers  care. 


74  WILLIAM   HAINES   LYTLE. 


JACQUELINE.* 

Almond-eyed  Jacqueline  beckoned  to  me, 

As  our  troop  rode  home  from  mounting  guard, 

And  I  saw  Gil  Perez's  brow  grow  dark, 

While  his  face  seemed  longer  by  half  a  yard. 

What  care  I  for  the  Spaniard's  ire, 

His  haughty  lip  and  glance  of  fire; 

What  so  fit  for  these  Southern  lords 

As  the  tempered  edges  of  freemen's  swords  ? 

Say,  shall  an  Alva's  merciless  bands 

Their  hands  in  our  noblest  blood  imbrue, 

And  then  with  accursed  foreign  wiles, 
Our  gentle  Northern  girls  pursue  ? 

Hail  to  him  who  for  freedom  strikes ! 

Up  with  your  banners  and  down  with  the  dykes ! 

Better  be  whelmed  'neath  ocean  waves 

Than  live  like  cowards  the  lives  of  slaves. 

Haughty  Gil  Perez  may  then  beware, 
For  we  love  our  blue-eyed  Leyden  girls, 

And  would  welcome  the  shock  of  Toledo  blades 
Were  the  prize  but  a  lock  of  their  golden  curls. 
*  A  ballad  of  the  "  Low  Countries,"  A.  D.  1567. 


JACQUELINE.  75 

Hope  on,  brothers,  the  day  shall  come 
With  flaunting  of  banner  and  rolling  of  drum, 
When  William  the  Silent  shall  rally  his  men 
And  scourge  these  wolves  to  their  homes  again. 


76  WILLIAM    RAINES    LYTLE. 


A  FRAGMENT. 

There  in  our  cloisters  green,  spangled  with  flowers, 
We'll  ponder  o'er  the  page  which  God  hath  spread, 
And  drink  its  wonders ;  the  gorgeous  vestment 
Flaming  with  gold  and  crimson,  nature  flings 
Over  the  fainting  day.     The  rose-lipped  morn 
Night  garlanded  with  stars,  the  universe 
Teeming  with  rich  benevolence,  shall  teach 
Our  hearts  to  mingle  in  a  sweet  communion, 
So  warm  and  glowing  that  the  hoary  Earth 
In  love's  sweet  light  shall  wear  another  youth 
And  bloom  as  in  the  old  primeval  garden. 
The  sands  of  life  shall  all  be  turned  to  gold, 
Our  lives,  unchilled  by  frost,  or  storm,  or  hail, 
Shall  slowly  wear  away,  till  like  ripe  fruit 
We  yield  our  spirit  to  the  gleaner — Death. 


MACDONALD'S  DRUMMER.  77 


MACDONALD'S  DRUMMER.* 

A  drummer-boy  from  fair  Bayonne 

By  love  of  glory  lured, 
With  bold  Macdonald's  stern  array 

The  pains  of  war  endured. 
And  now  amid  those  dizzy  heights 

That  girt  the  Splugen  dread, 
The  silent  columns  struggled  on, 

And  he  marched  at  their  head. 

Then  in  those  regions  cold  and  dim, 

With  endless  winter  cursed, 
The  Alpine  storm  arose  and  scowled 

And  forth  in  fury  burst — 
Burst  forth  on  the  devoted  ranks, 

Ambition's  dauntless  brood, 
That  thus  with  sword  and  lance  profaned 

Old  Winter's  solitude. 

"  Down  !  down  !  upon  your  faces  fall ; 
Cling  to  the  guns !  for,  lo, 

*  See  Headley's  account  of  the  passage  of  the  Splu 
gen,  by  Marshal  Macdonald. 


78  WILLIAM    HAINES    LYTLE. 

The  chamois  on  this  slippery  track 
Would  dread  yon  gulf  below  !" 

So  speed  the  word  from  front  to  rear, 
And  veterans  to  the  storm 

Bowed  low,  who  ne'er  in  battle  bowed 
To  aught  in  foeman's  form. 

But  hark  !  what  horror  swells  the  gale — 

Beware,  oh  sons  of  France ! 
Beware  the  avalanche  whose  home 

Is  'mid  these  mountain  haunts. 
Yon  distant  thunder — 't  is  its  voice ! 

The  bravest  held  his  breath, 
And  silently  a  prayer  put  up 

To  die  a  soldier's  death. 

And  near  and  nearer  with  a  roar 

That  loud  and  louder  swelled, 
The  avalanche  down  glaciers  broad 

Its  lightning  pathway  held ; 
And  through  the  shivering  ranks  it  crashed, 

And  then  with  one  vast  stride 
Swept  down  the  gulf,  till  far  below 

Its  muttering  thunders  died. 


MACDONALD'S  DRUMMER.  79 

In  vain  Italia's  sunny  plains 

And  reeling  vines  invite  ; 
Full  many  a  soldier  found  his  shroud 

'Mid  Alpine  snows  that  night; 
And  he,  his  comrades'  pride  and  boast, 

The  lad  from  fair  Bayonne  ? 
The  roll  was  called,  no  voice  replied, — 

The  drummer-boy  was  gone. 

Gone !  gone !  but  hark,  from  the  abyss, 

What  sounds  so  faintly  come, 
Amid  the  pauses  of  the  storm  ? 

It  is — it  is — the  drum  ! 
He  lives,  he  beats  for  aid,  he  sounds 

The  old  familiar  call, 
That  to  the  battery's  smoking  throat 

Had  brought  his  comrades  all. 

Over  the  dizzy  verge  that  eve 

With  straining  eyes  they  peered, 
And  heard  the  rattling  of  the  drum, 

In  echoes  strange  and  weird ; 
The  notes  would  cease,  and  then  again 

Would  sound — again  to  fail, 
Until  no  more  their  fainting  moan 

Came  wafted  on  the  gale 


80  WILLIAM    HAINES    LYTLE. 

And  when  red  Wagram's  fight  was  fought, 

And  the  big  war  was  o'er, 
A  dark-haired  matron  in  Bayonne 

Stood  watching  by  her  door ; 
Stood  watching,  praying  many  an  hour, 

Till  hair  and  heart  grew  gray, 
For  the  bright-eyed  boy  who,  'mid  the  Alps, 

Was  sleeping  far  away. 

And  still,  belated  peasants  tell 

How,  near  that  Alpine  height, 
They  hear  the  drum-roll  loud  and  clear 

On  many  a  storm-vexed  night. 
This  story  of  the  olden  time 

With  sad  eyes  they  repeat, 
And  whisper  by  whose  ghostly  hands 

The  spirit-drum  is  beat 


THE   VOLUNTEERS.  81 


THE  VOLUNTEERS. 

The  Volunteers  !     the  Volunteers ! 
I  dream,  as  in  the  by-gone  years, 
I  hear  again  their  stirring  cheers, 

And  see  their  banners  shine, 
What  time  the  yet  unconquered  North 
Pours  to  the  wars  her  legions  forth, 
For  many  a  wrong  to  strike  a  blow 
With  mailed  hand  at  Mexico. 

The  Volunteers !  Ah,  where  are  they 
Who  bade  the  hostile  surges  stay, 
When  the  black  forts  of  Monterey 
Frowned  on  their  dauntless  line  ? 
When,  undismayed  amid  the  shock 
Of  war,  like  Cerro  Gordo's  rock, 
They  stood,  or  rushed  more  madly  on 
Than  tropic  tempest  o'er  San  Juan  ? 

On  Angostura's  crowded  field 
Their  shattered  columns  scorned  to  yield, 
And  wildly  yet  defiance  pealed 
Their  flashing  batteries'  throats ; 


82  WILLIAM    HAINES    LYTLE. 

And  echoed  then  the  rifle's  crack, 
As  deadly  as  when  on  the  track 
Of  flying  foe,  of  yore,  its  voice 
Bade  Orleans'  dark-eyed  girls  rejoice. 

Blent  with  the  roar  of  guns  and  bombs, 
How  grandly  from  the  dim  past  comes 
The  roll  of  their  victorious  drums, 

Their  bugle's  joyous  notes, 
When  over  Mexico's  proud  towers, 
And  the  fair  valley's  storied  bowers, 
Fit  recompense  of  toil  and  scars, 
In  triumph  waved  their  flag  of  stars. 

Ah,  comrades,  of  your  own  tried  troop, 
Whose  honor  ne'er  to  shame  might  stoop, 
Of  lion  heart  and  eagle  swoop, 

But  you  alone  remain ; 
On  all  the  rest  has  fallen  the  hush 
Of  death ;  the  men  whose  battle-rush 
Was  wild  as  sun-loosed  torrent's  flow 
From  Orizaba's  crest  of  snow. 

The  Volunteers !  the  Volunteers  ! 

God  send  us  peace  through  all  our  years, 


THE    VOLUNTEERS.  83 

But  if  the  cloud  of  war  appears, 

We  '11  see  them  once  again. 
.   From  broad  Ohio's  peaceful  side, 
From  where  the  Maumee  pours  its  tide, 
From  storm-lashed  Erie's  wintry  shore, 
Shall  spring  the  Volunteers  once  more. 

1849. 


84  WILLIAM    HAINES   LYTLE. 


A  MIDSUMMER-DAY'S  DREAM. 

"  That  was  a  crazy  business, 

Trouble  in  every  part, 
And  many  a  dashing  soldier 
Was  quartered  in  thine  heart." 

— Heinrich  Heine. 

Through  the  mellowed  lights  of  the  beech- 
wood, 

A  river  hummed  its  tune, 
And  I  sat  with  Jeannette  beside  me 

In  the  still  midsummer's  noon. 

Jeannette  is  a  haughty  lady, 

But  I  was  a  throned  king, 
Who  had  bidden  the  waves,  my  minstrels, 

To  clash  their  cymbals  and  sing. 

The  incense-laden  breezes 

Shed  fragrance  in  their  flight, 
Through  the  stately  aisles  of  my  palace, 

Flooded  with  emerald  light. 

And  she  of  the  rich  low  voice, 

With  music  in  each  soft  tone, 
My  heart  and  kingdom  all  were  hers, 

And  she  was  mine  alone. 


A  MIDSUMMER-DAY'S  DREAM.  85 

Through  the  cool  green  aisle  of  the  beeches, 

The  river  hums  its  tune ; 
But  no  more  with  Jeannette  beside  me 

I  sit  at  the  still  mid-noon. 

From  that  memory-haunted  forest, 

I  rode  both  fast  and  far ; 
For  Jeannette  is  a  haughty  lady, 

And  I  am  a  poor  huzzar ! 


86  WILLIAM    HAINES    LYTLE. 


LINES  TO  MISS 


My  foot 's  in  the  stirrup,  my  hand 's  on  the  rein, 
My  proud  steed  is  tossing  his  longflowing  mane ; 
Yet,  stay  for  a  moment !  I  '11  wave  ere  we  part 
Another  farewell  to  the  girl  of  my  heart. 

How  blest  was  the  evening  I  knelt  by  her  side, 
And  watched  the   Miami's  deep  willow-fringed 

tide, 
And  dreamed  a  fair  dream  that  love  would  flow 

ever, 
As  smooth  and  as  bright  as  the  beautiful  river. 

"  Oh,  stay !  "  said  the  rose  to  the  wind,  as  it  sped ; 
Alas !  in  a  moment  the  sighing  wind  fled. 
"  Oh,  stay  !  "  said  the  lily,  "nor  leave  me  alone," 
Alas !  in  a  moment  the  bright  wave  was  gone  ! 

Thus,  wave-like  and  wind-like,  from  those  whom 

we  love, 

The  bidding  of  fate  oft  compels  us  to  rove, 
But  memory  is  laden  with  love-lighted  hours, 
As  winds,  and  the  waves,  with  the  fragrance  of 

flowers. 


LINES   TO    MISS   .  87 

My  foot's  in  the  stirrup,  my  hand's  on  the  rein, 
My  good  steed  is  tossing  his  longflowing  mane, 
One   wave   of  her  white   hand,    one   tear  from 

her  eye — 

Press  on,  my  fleet  charger !     Sweet  lady — good 
bye! 


88  WILLIAM    HAINES    LYTLE. 


LINES  WRITTEN  IN  AN  ALBUM. 

A  legend  has  told  us  that  Cupid  and  Death 

Were  driven  by  stress  of  the  weather, 
To  an  inn  where  they  reveled  in  mischief  and 
fun, 

And  cracked  a  full  bumper  together. 
But  Cupid,  the  rogue,  with  the  arrows  of  Death, 

A  bunch  from  his  own  quiver  mingled ; 
Thus  oft  an  old  swain  is  smitten  by  love, 

Whom  Death  for  a  victim  has  singled. 


THE   SWEET    MAY   MOON.  89 


THE  SWEET  MAY  MOON. 

The  sweet  May  moon  has  left  the  night 

Pensive  and  sad ; 
Another  eve,  again  her  light 

Will  shine  and  all  be  glad. 
But  no  more,  love,  will  thy  quenched  beam 
Rekindle  life's  delicious  dream. 

The  sweet  May  moon  has  left  the  stars 

Twinkling  and  bright, 
Fair  sentinels  amid  the  wars 

That  vex  the  gentle  night. 
But  thou,  oh !  love,  hast  veiled  thy  face, 
And  left  no  starlight  in  thy  place. 

The  sweet  May  moon  has  left  the  wave 

To  sing  the  while 
In  some  sea-hidden  dreamland  cave, 

She  hides  her  mellow  smile. 
But  thou,  oh  !  love,  hast  left  no  voice 
To  bid  my  saddened  heart  rejoice. 


90  WILLIAM    HAINES   LYTLE. 


IN    CAMP. 

I  gazed  forth  from  my  wintry  tent 

Upon  the  star-gemmed  firmament ; 

I  heard  the  far-off  sentry's  tramp 

Around  our  mountain-girdled  camp 

And  saw  the  ghostly  tents  uprise 

Like  specters  'neath  the  jeweled  skies. 

And  thus  upon  the  snow-clad  scene, 

So  pure  and  spotless  and  serene, 

Where  locked  in  sleep  ten  thousand  lay 

Awaiting  morn's  returning  ray, — 

I  gazed,  till  to  the  sun  the  drums 

Rolled  at  the  dawn,  "  He  comes,  he  comes." 

1862.     Bardstown,  Ky. 


}T  IS    NOT   THE   TIME.  91 


'TIS   NOT  THE  TIME. 

'T  is  not  the  time  for  dalliance  soft 

In  gentle  ladies'  bowers, 
When  treason  flaunts  her  flag  aloft 

And  dares  to  tread  on  ours. 
Again  the  swords  our  fathers  wore 

Must  in  the  scabbards  rattle, 
And  we  will  sing  the  songs  of  yore, 

When  marching  forth  to  battle. 

From  every  pine-clad  mountain  side, 

From  every  dimpled  valley, 
The  bugles  ringing  far  and  wide, 

Invite  the  brave  to  rally. 
And  far  to  East  and  far  to  West 

Our  iron  line  advances, 
While  freedom's  flag,  by  freemen  blessed, 

In  glory  o'er  us  dances. 

But  when  the  birds  of  morning  sing, 

And  all  the  wars  are  over, 
Our  lances  at  your  feet  we  '11  fling, 

And  then  we  '11  play  the  lover. 


92  WILLIAM    HAINES   LYTLE. 

And  all  will  say  'tis  time  to  wed, 
As  gayly  drums  shall  rattle. 

Before  our  conquering  column's  head, 
When  marching  home  from  battle. 

1862. 


WHEN   THE   LONG   SHADOWS.  93 


WHEN  THE  LONG  SHADOWS. 

When  the  long  shadows  on  my  path  are  lying, 
Will  those  I  love  be  gathered  at  my  side ; 

Clustered  around  my  couch  of  pain,  and  trying 
To  light  the  dark  way,  trod  without  a  guide  ? 

Shall  it  be  mine,  beyond  the  tossing  billow, 
Neath  foreign  skies,  to  feel  the  approach  of 
death, 

Will  stranger  hands  smooth  down  my  dying  pillow, 
And  watch  with  kindly  heart  my  failing  breath  ? 

Or  shall,  perchance,  the  little  stars  be  shining 
On  some  lone  spot,  where,  far  from  home  and 
friends, 

The  way-worn  pilgrim  on  the  turf  reclining, 
His  life  and  much  of  grief  together  ends  ? 

Ah  !  whereso'er  the  closing  scene  may  find  me, 
'Mid  friends  or  foemen  or  in  deserts  lone, 

May  there  be  some  of  those  I  leave  behind  me 
To  shed  a  tear  for  me  when  I  am  gone. 


94  WILLIAM    HAINES    LYTLE. 

Full  well  I  know  life's  current,  onward  rushing, 
Sweeps   hearts   away  from    spots   where   they 
would  cling, 

And  by  life's  shores  fair  flowers  are  ever  blushing. 
That  o'er  the  waves  a  Lethean  fragrance  fling. 

Yet  when  the  thousand  gales  of  morn  are  blowing, 
Or  when  the  bright  moon  gilds  the  solemn  sea, 

And  the  sweet  stars  their  smiles  on   earth  are 

throwing, 
In  the  wide  world,  will  none  remember  me  ? 


THE    MERRY    DAYS    OF    ELD.  95 


THE  MERRY  DAYS  OF  ELD. 

I  have  read  of  an  old  world 
In  the  merry  days  of  eld, 
When  the  knight  his  armor  wore, 
And  the  king  gay  tourneys  held ; 
When  the  gentle  couched  the  lance, 
And  the  peasant  bore  the  glave, 
And  beauty  sweetly  smiled  upon 
The  loyal  and  the  brave. 
Yet  mourn  not  that  this  stout  old  world  like  a 

dream  has  passed  away, 
That  the  clang  of  arms  rings  out  no  more,  with 

stirring  trumpets'  fray, 
That  the  sturdy  knight  so  bold  and  the  prince  so 

stern  and  proud 

Sleep  well  the  long  and  silent  sleep,  each  wrapped 
in  his  white  shroud. 

There  is  festival  to-night 
In  the  castle's  lofty  hall, 
And  the  fire  logs  gleam  bright 
On  the  armor  on  the  wall. 


96  WILLIAM    HAINES    LYTLE. 

"  Ho!  "  shouts  the  Baron,  "  Minstrels, 
Let  your  harps  sing  merrilie, 
Ho !  fill  the  cups  with  foaming  wine, 
And  drink  to  Chivalrie." 
But  far  off  on  a  frosty  moor,  beside  his  humble 

cot, 
The  shivering  serf  his  fagot  rakes,  nor  murmurs 

at  his  lot, 
His  voice  is  hushed,  his  lips  are  closed,  but  his 

eye  lets  fall  a  tear, 

When  the  night  wind  whispers  tones  of  mirth  to 
his  unwilling  ear. 

The  lord  rides  forth  to  battle 
For  our  blessed  Savior's  shrine, 
He  battles  with  the  Paynim 
On  the  sands  of  Palestine. 
His  deeds  shine  out  in  story, 
Of  his  arm  so  quick  and  strong, 
The  harper  chants  his  glory  forth 
And  breathes  his  name  in  song. 

But  the  serf  he  toils  from  morning,  he  toils  till 
evening  grey, 

With  an  aching  brow  and  fainting  heart  he  plods 
along  his  way, 


THE    MERRY    DAYS    OF   ELD.  97 

Grief,  like  a  night-bird,  gloomily,  sits  brooding  on 

his  soul, 
For  him,  no  deeds  of  high  emprise,  no  place  on 

glory's  scroll. 

Oh  !  these  merry  tales  of  eld, 
Of  the  days  that  now  are  gone, 
How  they  flee  before  the  truth 
Like  spirits  from  the  dawn. 
And  poets  sing  of  barons, 
Of  war,  and  gay  amour, 
But  they  never  yet  have  caroled 
The  sad  song  of  the  poor. 
Then  mourn  not  that  this  stout  old  world  like  a 

dream  has  passed  away, 
That  the  clang  of  arms  rings  out  no  more  with 

stirring  trumpet's  fray, 
That  the  sturdy  knight  so  bold,  and  the  prince  so 

stern  and  proud 

Sleep  well,    their  long  and   silent    sleep,    each 
wrapped  in  his  white  shroud. 


WILLIAM    HAINES    LYTLfi. 


LINES  TO  MISS  E- 


The  pulse  of  the  year  beat  low,  throbbed  low, 

The  winds  went  drearily  sighing ; 
For  wrapped  in  their  shrouds  of  snow,  white  snow, 

The  last  of  fall  flowers  were  lying. 

I  heard  the  north  storm  come  down,  come  down, 

From  its  farthest  icy  dwelling, 
Through  leafless  forests  all  brown,  all  brown, 

The  doom  of  the  old  year  knelling. 

But  when  the  light  of  thy  smile,  sweet  smile, 
Was  shed  on  the  lone  chance-comer, 

He  dreamed  a  fair  dream  awhile,  awhile, 
Of  beauty  and  love  and  summer. 


THE    HAUNTED    RIVER.  99 


THE  HAUNTED  RIVER. 

Through  a  desolate  dim  region, 

Rolls  a  haunted  river, 

Shapes  and  shades  whose  name  is  legion, 

Vex  its  tide  forever. 

Round  it  loom  steep  promontories 

Fringed  with  morning's  ruddy  glories, 

In  the  olden  day, 

Now,  wan  and  gray ; 
And  still  this  sad,  mysterious  river 
Goes  sweeping,  moaning  on  forever. 

Once  amid  enchanted  islands, 
Where  the  May  reposes, 
Starred  with  flower-crowned  highlands, 
Drunk  with  breath  of  roses, 
Flashed  its  current  in  the  sunlight, 
Sung  its  waters  in  the  moonlight, 

Sung  to  Dian, 

And  Orion; 

Now,  this  sad,  mysterious  river, 
Sweeps  and  moans  along,  forever. 


100  WILLIAM    HAINES   LYTLE. 


FADED  FLOWERS. 

Woven  of  fire 

And  light,  these  flowers  be  emblems  of  the  soul, 
Whose  wing  plies  ceaselessly  to  win  its  goal, 

Till  time  expire. 

Beauty  at  dawn 
Was  theirs,  drunk  with  rich   odors,  thieves   of 

hues 

Stolen  from  Iris,  reeling  with  draughts  of  dews ; 
At  eve,  how  wan. 

Frail  flowers !  poor  heart ! 
Dew,  beauty,  fragrance  linger  till  the  noon, 
At  eve,  conspire  to  flee  your  presence  soon, 

At  night,  depart. 

So  reads  the  sign — 

May  thy  day  linger  long  whose  morn  has  spoken 
Hope  to  the  heart,  and  peace  as  yet  unbroken,— 

Longer  than  mine. 


TWO    YEARS   AGO.  101 


TWO  YEARS  AGO. 

The  winds  were  still,  the  waters  shone 
Beneath  the  May  moon ;  we  alone 
Upon  the  rose-twined  portico 
In  silence  stood,  two  years  ago. 

Her  blue-veined  hand  was  clasped  in  mine, 
My  pulse  leapt  as  if  lashed  with  wine. 
Love,  on  expression  could  not  wreak 
Its  passions,  though  I  burned  to  speak. 

Forth,  lava-like,  at  last  the  gush 

Of  passionate  speech  broke  on  the  hush, 

And  wildly  poured  upon  her  ear 

The  words  she  feared,  yet  loved,  to  hear. 

In  maiden  beauty  how  she  stood, 
Fair  type  of  saintly  womanhood; 
Shine  out,  sweet  stars,  on  charms  divine 
And  radiantly  pure  as  thine. 

The  prize  was  won,  the  prize  is  lost; — 
It  may  be  weak,  but,  tempest  tossed, 
I  watch  the  dim  receding  shore 
From  whence  I  drift  forever  more. 


102  WILLIAM    HAINES   LYTLE. 

Tell  her,  oh !  night,  if  toward  the  North 
Her  gentle  eyes  now  wander  forth 
To  find  my  love's  bright  symbol  there, 
Unquenchable  amid  despair. 

The  winds  are  still,  the  water  gleams 
Beneath  the  May  moon ;  but  the  dreams 
I  dreamed  are  gone,  and  now  I  know 
How  blessed  I  was  two  years  ago. 


A    VALENTINE.  103 


A  VALENTINE. 

A  loiterer  by  the  ocean's  azure  swell, 

Enraptured  seized  a  gem  born  of  the  spray, 
Scarce  half  admired,  a  still  more  beauteous  shell 

Hath  prompted  him  to  fling  the  first  away. 
So  oft  before,  the  tides  of  time  had  cast 

Such  charms  across  my  path,  I  could  have  sworn 
Their  witching  radiance  beauty  unsurpassed ;  — 

Sprung  from  the  bright  sea-caves,  where  lurks 

the  morn. 

Yet  scarce  had  they  my  happiness  undone, 
Ere  some  new  fancy  my  allegiance  won. 
Till  waved  thy  scepter  and  my  heart  remained 
A  trembling  prisoner  by  beauty's  links  unchained. 


104  WILLIAM    HAINES   LYTLE. 


LOVE  AND  TIME. 

There  beat  a  young  heart  which  had  never  known 

love, 
'T  was  as  fresh  as  the  bloom  of  the  red  summer 

rose, 

Till  the  merry  God  smiled  from  the  regions  above, 
And  launched  a  bright  arrow,  that  broke  its 
repose. 

He  launched  a  bright  arrow,  that  broke  its  repose. 

When  the  fairy-like  maiden  was  smiling  in  sleep ; 
The  wound  was  a-bleeding,  when  just  as  love  rose, 

Old  Time  chanced  along  on  his  pinions  to  sweep: 

Old  Time  chanced  along  on  his  pinions  to  sweep, 
And  on  the  new  wound  that  the  arrow  had  made, 

As  he  passed  without  stopping  (his  crop  was  to 

reap), 
All  softly  and  gently  his  finger  he  laid — 

All  softly  and  gently  his  finger  he  laid, 
Then  noiselessly  glided  away  from  the  spot, 

And  careless,  and  gladsome,  as  e'er  was  the  maid, 
Love's  dream,  and  the  wound,  and  the  arrow, 
forgot. 


LINES.  105 


LINES. 

SUGGESTED  ON  THE  DEATH  OF  GENERAL  T.  L.  HAMER. 

The  brave  who  sleep  in  glory's  shroud, 

How  proud  a  fate  is  theirs  ! 
A  stricken  nation  mourning  stands 

In  grief  beside  their  biers. 
Strewn  o'er  our  mountains  and  our  plains, 

Their  bones  in  clusters  lie, 
And  stars  smile  on  their  humble  graves 

From  out  the  quiet  sky. 

Some  fell  upon  the  highland's  crest, 

And  some  sleep  in  the  vale, 
Where  violets  in  summer  time 

Are  nodding  in  the  gale. 
The  bones  of  some  are  whitening 

In  stormy  ocean's  deep, 
On  hill  and  plain  and  ocean  bed 

So  tranquilly  they  sleep. 

From  city  and  from  country  side 

In  pride  of  youth  they  came, 
The  noble  and  the  beautiful, 

To  shield  from  harm  or  shame 


106  WILLIAM    HAINES   LYTLE. 

The  rich  old  memories  of  the  past, 

The  glorious  legacy 
From  men  who  in  the  olden  time 

Fought  battles  to  be  free. 

Around  the  effulgent  flag  they  pressed, 

That,  borne  in  many  wars, 
Dishonor  never  visited 

To  lurk  amid  its  stars. 
To  guard  it  with  the  old  renown, 

Or  dearly  life  to  sell, 
They  closed  around  its  lustrous  sheen, 

And,  conquering,  they  fell. 

In  time's  dim  cycles  yet  to  come, 

The  mother  to  her  child 
Will  tell  of  the  fierce  battle  won 

And  the  red  carnage  wild. 
And  proud  tradition  shall  hand  down 

The  glory  of  the  brave, 
Long  as  above  free  hearts  and  hands 

Our  star-lit  flag  shall  wave. 
1849. 


A   SERENADE.  107 


A  SERENADE. 

The  air  is  soft  and  balmy, 

And  the  moon  shines  clear  and  bright, 

So  throw  your  lattice  wide,  Ladie, 

And  bless  my  eyes  to-night. 

No  smoothly  polished  lay  I  sing 

Like  courtly  chevalier, 

Yet  let  the  soldier's  tale  of  love 

Fall  sweetly  on  your  ear. 

I  come  from  far  countree, 

From  the  land  of  tropic  sun, 

Where  fame,  and  wreaths  of  laurel 

And  glorious  names  are  won ; 

Where  the  dews  of  night  fall  harmlessly 

On  the  saber's  polished  side 

As  the  dews  of  Time  but  strengthen 

My  soul's  love  for  its  bride. 


108  WILLIAM    HAINES   LYTLE. 


SONG  OF  THE  LIGHTNING. 

For  a  thousand  years  of  time  and  more, 

From  the  depths  of  my  misty  lair, 

I  issued  forth  to  the  frozen  north, 

But  as  lord  of  the  upper  air. 

The  sway  o'er  life  and  death  was  mine, 

Where  'er  my  footsteps  trod, 

And  in  all  Creation's  broad  expanse, 

I  bowed  to  none  but  God. 

Where  I  slumbered,  who  might  know  ? 

Or  was  cradled,  who  could  tell  ? 

Fierce  in  my  wrath,  my  blackened  path 

Was  scorched  with  flames  of  Hell. 

Yet  I  dwelt  in  each  dew-wet  moss-rose  bud, 

In  each  trembling  blade  of  grass, 

And  in  sportive  glee  I  skimmed  the  sea 

And  danced  o'er  the  dark  morass. 

I  crouched  in  the  granite  quarry  midst, 
I  pierced  the  dull  old  earth, 
I  fired  the  train  that  long  had  lain, 
And  shouted  with  horrid  mirth, 


SONG   OF   THE    LIGHTNING.  109 

When  fierce  volcano  flung  its  glare 
Far  o'er  the  ocean's  brine, 
And  poured  the  scalding  lava  forth 
As  flagon  pours  the  wine. 

Earth's  quickener,  I  slumbered  oft, 

For  centuries  concealed, 

Like  a  great  thought  in  stillness  wrought 

To  blaze  when  once  revealed. 

Blasting  or  blessing,  alike  I  strode 

An  angel  or  a  fiend, 

And  on  flaming  wing  rejoicing, 

Through  the  deep  vault  careened. 

But  I  shouted  aloud  from  an  inky  shroud 
When  with  death  and  woe  I  came, 
And  pealed  a  blast  as  I  hurried  past, 
That  shook  earth's  rock-ribbed  frame ; 
And  suppliant  forests  bowed  their  crests 
As  my  black  cohorts  swept  by, 
And  the  pealing  tongue  of  the  thunder  flung 
Aloft  my  battle-cry. 

A  good  ship  sailing  on  the  sea, 
A  pilgrim  on  the  shore, 
A  temple  on  a  lonely  hill 
Where  worship  bowed  of  yore ; 


110  WILLIAM    HAINES    LYTLE. 

A  blinding  flash,  a  thunder  peal, 
That  fills  the  welkin  wide, — 
A  hulk,  a  corse,  a  ruin,  tell 
The  sum  of  human  pride. 

Ye  know  how  the  treacherous  wit  of  men 

Has  lured  me  with  my  love, 

How  the  wing  that  flamed  so  free  is  tamed, 

To  the  flight  of  the  carrier  dove 

But  beware  the  lightning's  tongue  of  fire, 

Ye  cunning  sons  of  men, 

When  the  woe  begetter  shall  rend  his  fetter, 

And  roam  the  skies  again ! 


OMENS.  Ill 


OMENS. 

"  Here  I  am,  Lord,  for  thou  didst  call  me." 

—I  Sam.  iii,  8. 

Last  night  in  the  mid-watch 
When  all  was  still  and  drear, 
My  name,  I  heard  it  called, — 
Oh,  Christ,  how  dread  to  hear. 
Was  it  a  dream  ?  no  sleep 
Had  kissed  my  lids  that  night ; 
Helpless  I  lay  and  powerless, 
All  trembling  with  affright. 

I  listened,  yet  no  sound 
Smote  on  my  straining  ear, 
Save  the  wild  wind  whirling 
The  leaflets  torn  and  sere. 
And  in  the  sudden  pause, 
As  sped  its  coursers  fleet, 
Solemnly  in  the  gloom  around 
I  heard  the  night's  pulse  beat. 

Doubt  not  between  our  world 
And  those  where  spirits  dwell, 


112  WILLIAM    HAINES    LYTLE. 

Shadowy  links  there  be 
Whereof  tongue  can  not  tell. 
Heed  not  the  haughty  soul 
Whose  wisdom  never  bends, 
At  the  still  voice  of  Omens, 
That  God  in  mercy  lends. 

In  the  broad  light  of  day, 

When  gloom  broods  o'er  the  deep, 

His  arm  is  still  to  shield  us, 

His  love  can  never  sleep. 

His  mercy  walks  abroad  at  noon, 

And  on  the  midnight  air ; 

So   thought  I,  and  my  troubled  soul 

Found  rest  again  in  prayer. 


LINES  ON  MY  THIRTY-SIXTH  BIRTHDAY.       113 


LINES    ON    MY    THIRTY-SIXTH    BIRTH 
DAY. 

Swift  through  the  hurricane  of  life 

My  shattered  bark  drives  on, 
The  pilot's  hand  has  left  the  helm, 

Rudder  and  mast  are  gone. 
I  hear  the  roar  of  angry  seas, 

And  see  the  breakers  rise, 
Revealed  amid  the  sullen  gloom 

By  lightning-lighted  skies. 

'T  is  done  !     To  hope  I  bid  farewell, 

Love  and  her  lights  may  flee, 
And  youth's  entrancing  glamour  fades 

From  hope  to  memory. 
Far  o'er  the  Atlantic's  waves  to-night 

My  true  love  wends  her  way, 
And  many  a  tear  is  mingled  with 

The  ocean's  briny  spray. 

Gird  on  my  trusty  blade  once  more, 
And  saddle  my  sinewy  steed ; 

Dash  down  the  gloomy  page  to  earth, 
Whose  lore  I  would  not  read. 


114  WILLIAM    HAINES    LYTLE. 

Weave  fast  your  woof,  weird  sisters  three  ! 

Again  among  the  brave, 
For  freedom  and  for  victory, 

Or  for  a  soldier's  grave  ! 

1862. 


LINES    TO    MY    SISTERS.  115 


LINES  TO  MY  SISTERS. 

Dear  sisters,  mid  the  toil  and  strife 

That  vex  young  manhood's  troubled  life, 

My  heart  to  you  will  fondly  stray, 

Though  absent  now  and  far  away. 

I  miss  your  words  of  hope  and  cheer, 

That  nerved  my  soul  when  all  was  drear, 

The  sunny  smiles  and  soothing  ways 

So  prized  from  earliest  boyhood's  days. 

In  vain  for  me  the  applause  of  men, 

The  laurel  won  by  sword  or  pen, 

But  for  the  hope,  so  dear  and  sweet, 

To  lay  my  trophies  at  your  feet. 

And  though  the  world  should  prove  unkind, 

A  solace  in  your  smiles  I  '11  find. 

The  links  that  link  us  three  together 

Defy  this  life's  most  stormy  weather, 

And  in  bright  worlds  we  know  not  of 

Will  still  enclasp  our  sacred  love. 

Bloom,  flowers!  where'er  my  sisters  move; 

Shine  on  them,  stars !  with  beams  of  love ; 


116  WILLIAM    HAINES    LYTLE. 

Your  vigils,  holy  angels,  keep 
That  no  dark  dream  affright  their  sleep ; 
And  sunny  garlands,  fortune,  twine 
To  deck  their  brows,  sweet  sisters  mine. 


'TIS    ONLY    ONCE   WE    LOVE.  117 


'TIS  ONLY  ONCE  WE  LOVE. 

The  heart  that  throbbed  at  Glory's  voice 

And  followed  in  her  train, 
Although  in  sloth  it  slumbers  long, 

May  wake  to  life  again. 
But  ah !  when  once  true  love  has  bloomed, 

As  many  a  heart  can  prove, 
The  fragrance  wasted  ne'er  returns — 

'Tis  only  once  we  love. 

I  tread  the  sunny  paths  of  life, 

'Mid  beauty's  proud  array, 
But  the  spell  that  lent  a  charm  to  all 

Has  mist-like  passed  away. 
No  more  the  thrill  from  mingled  pulse 

The  eloquent  low  sigh, 
Nor  the  unbidden  tear  of  joy 

That  trembled  in  the  eye. 

Yet  ofttimes  in  my  early  dreams, 

From  some  enchanted  isle, 
Comes  one  with  her  soft,  winning  voice 

And  the  old  gladsome  smile, 


118  WILLIAM    HAINES    LYTLE. 

And  hand  in  hand  we  wander  on 
Through  violet-bordered  glades, 

Till  with  the  night's  starred  legions  bright 
The  joyous  vision  fades. 

Ah !  sadly  pass  the  hours  away 

When  that  sweet  light  departs, 
Which  fair  as  dawn  on  Eden  rose 

With  rapture  on  our  hearts. 
And  many  a  blossom  fair  is  culled 

As  through  the  world  we  rove ; 
But  the  fairest  is  the  rarest  flower. 

'Tis  only  once  we  love. 


THE   SIEGE   OF   CHAPULTEPEC.  119 


THE  SIEGE  OF  CHAPULTEPEC. 

Wide  o'er  the  valley  the  pennons  are  fluttering, 
War's  sullen  story  the  deep  guns  are  muttering, 
Forward !  blue-jackets,  in  good  steady  order, 
Strike  for  the  fame  of  your  good  northern  border ; 
Forever  shall  history  tell  of  the  bloody  check 
Waiting  the  foe  at  the  siege  of  Chapultepec. 

Let  the  proud  deeds  of  your  fathers  inspire  ye 

still, 
Think  ye  of    Monmouth,    and    Princeton,    and 

Bunker  Hill, 

Come  from  your  hallowed  graves,  famous  in  story, 
Shades  of  our  heroes,  and  lead  us  to  glory. 
Side  by  side,  son  and  father  with  hoary  head 
Struggle  for  triumph,  or  death  on  a  gory  bed. 

Hark !  to  the  charge !  the  war-hail  is  pattering, 
The  foe  through  our  ranks  red  rain  is  scattering; 
Huzza  !  forward  !  no  halting  or  flagging  till 
Proudly  the  red  stripes  float  o'er  yon  rocky  hill. 
Northern  and  Southerner,  let  your  feuds  smolder ; 
Charge!    for    our    banner's    fame,    shoulder    to 
shoulder ! 


120  WILLIAM    HAINES    LYTLE. 

Flash  the  fort  guns,  and  thunders  their  stunning 

swell 

Far  o'er  the  valley  to  white  Popocatapetl, 
Death  revels  high  in  the  midst  of  the  bloody  sport, 
Bursting  in  flame  from  each  black-throated  cas 
tle-port, 

Press  on  the  line  with  keen  sabers  dripping  wet, 
Cheer,  as  ye  smite  with  the  death-dealing  bayonet ! 

Our  bold  Northern  eagle,  king  of  the  firmament, 
Shares  with  no  rival  the  skies  of  the  continent. 
Yields  the  fierce  foeman;  down  let  his  flag  be 

hurled, 

Shout,  as  our  own  from  the  turret  is  wide  un 
furled! 

Shout !  for  long  shall  Mexico  mourn  the  wreck 
Of  her  proud  state  at  the  siege  of  Chapultepec. 

1848. 


THE  SOLDIER'S  DEATH.  121 


THE  SOLDIER'S  DEATH.* 

"  Early  in  the  morning  we  found  him  lying  cold  and 
stiff  on  the  scene  of  his  former  exploits." 

The  night  had  come  and  the  stars  were  bright, 
And  the  moon  shone  o'er  the  battlefield, 
When  the  unjust  cause  of  a  tryant's  might 
Was  crushed  by  the  weight  of  freedom's  shield. 

Years  passed  by  and  a  people  great 
Had  arisen  in  a  mighty  land, 
And  peace  and  hope  and  might  they  date 
From  a  contest  gained  by  a  gallant  band. 

Upon  the  waste  so  stained  with  blood, 

Beside  a  great  and  rushing  stream, 

A  worn  and  weary  soldier  stood, 

Like  a  phantom  raised  in  a  feverish  dream. 

As  the  winds  of  winter  by  him  course, 
And  curl  the  foam  on  the  billow's  crest, 
Naught  can  oppose  their  onward  force, 
They  carry  a  groan  from  the  soldier's  breast. 

*  Written  at  the  age  of  fourteen. 


122  WILLIAM  HAINES    LYTLE. 

The  scenes  of  the  past  before  him  glow, 
While  memory's  rays  upon  them  beam, 
And  the  waste — before — is  crowded  now 
And  polished  arms  before  him  gleam. 

Through  the  vault  of  heaven  the  bugles  call, 
The  eager  troops  to  the  conflict  pour, 
Like  grass  before  the  scythe  they  fall, 
Mowed  down — as  the  cannons  loudly  roar. 

As  the  moon  beams  on  their  armor  dance, 
Springing  like  beast  from  out  his  lair, 
Each  grasping  close  his  deadly  lance, 
The  shadowy  horsemen  fast  appear. 

As  in  their  crowded  ranks  they  stream, 
Now  loudly  swells  the  battle  cry, 
Floating  in  air  their  banners  gleam, 
With  clashing  swords  is  the  tumult  high. 

See  the  old  man  stands  with  kindling  eyes, 
And  lifting  high  his  hoary  head, 
His  upraised  arm  he  scarcely  stays, — 
'T  is  but  the  battle  of  the  dead. 

The  night  has  passed— the  morn  has  come, 
With  rosy  hue  the  east  is  flushed. 


THE  SOLDIER'S  DEATH.  123 

And  on  that  spot  seemed  nature  dumb, 
So  tranquil  was  the  scene  and  hushed. 

When  mortals  by  the  wayside  passed, 
The  soldier's  last  deep  breath  had  flown, 
With  naught  to  cheer  save  the  midnight  blast, 
On  the  battlefield  had  he  died  — alone. 

1840. 


124  WILLIAM   HAINES    LYTLE. 


THE  FARMER. 

From  golden  morn  till  dewy  eve, 

When  the  sky  gleams  bright  and  red, 
With  many  a  strong  and  sturdy  stroke, 

I  labor  for  my  bread. 
No  sickly  fits  nor  ills  I  dread, 

My  chest  is  deep  and  broad, 
And  though  I  work  the  live-long  day, 

I  rise  and  thank  my  God. 

No  lily  hue  is  on  my  brow, 

No  rings  on  my  hard  hand, 
I  wield  the  axe,  I  drive  the  plow ; 

Or  when  war  shrouds  the  land, 
I  seize  my  father's  well-tried  blade, 

And  that  for  Freedom's  sod 
It  is  my  glorious  right  to  bleed, 

I  rise  and  thank  my  God. 

And  when  my  daily  task  is  o'er, 
And  the  sun  is  sinking  low, 

As  faint  with  work  and  honest  toil, 
To  my  humble  roof  I  go, — 


THE   FARMER.  125 

I  see  the  perfumed  city  beau 

With  his  ebony  walking  rod, 
And  that  I  'm  not  a  thing  like  him, 

I  rise  and  thank  my  God. 

The  widow's  prayer  upon  mine  ear, 

Unheeded  never  fell, 
I  ne'er  beheld  the  orphan's  tear, 

But  my  own  heart's  fount  would  swell. 
I  never  Heaven  for  gold  would  sell, 

Nor  for  wealth  would  stoop  to  fraud, 
A  poor  but  yet  an  honest  man, 

I  rise  and  thank  my  God. 

And  when  the  good  sun  floods  with  light 

This  land  of  liberty, 
And  spreads  around  my  happy  sight, 

As  in  prayer  I  bend  the  knee, 
That  I  am  strong  and  bold  and  free, 

In  the  land  my  fathers  trod, 
With  quivering  lip  and  outstretched  arms, 

I  rise  and  thank  my  God. 

1843- 


126  WILLIAM    HAINES    LYTLE. 


HUNTING  SONG. 

Arouse  !  Hunters !  Arouse ! 

Brightly  breaks  the  morn, 
Freshly  blows  the  morning  breeze, 

And  cheerily  winds  the  horn. 
The  deer  his  covert  leaving, 

Lingers  in  the  vale, 
And  over  the  lofty  mountain-top 

The  crimson  glories  sail. 

Awake  !  Hunters !  Awake ! 

Nature  from  her  sleep 
In  summer's  arms  comes  forth 

To  bid  the  glad  pulse  leap. 
The  sorrowing  night  has  vanished, 

Her  dreary  watching  done, 
Her  tear-drops  hung  on  trembling  leaves 

Are  glittering  in  the  sun. 

To  horse  !  Hunters  !  To  horse ! 

Bounds  each  noble  steed 
Like  a  bold  spirit  wearying 

From  bondage  to  be  freed. 


HUNTING   SONG.  127 

Give  rein!  give  rein;  with  ringing  shout 

The  soaring  eagle  scare, 
And  follow  with  echoing  cry  the  stag, 

Deep  in  his  forest  lair. 


1846. 


128  WILLIAM    HAINES    LYTLE. 


SONG  OF  THE  RAGGED  ATTORNEY. 
"  Lidentum  dicere  verum  quid  betat  ?  " — Horace. 
My  coat  has  long  since  lost  its  gloss, 

My  purse  of  gold  is  bare, 
I  stride  no  horses  fleet  and  fine, 

Nor  dine  on  dainties  rare. 
Yet  ho !  my  cheek  is  full  and  red, 

My  eye  is  clear  and  bright, 
And  I  laugh  at  rags,  and  want  and  care, 

With  a  jolly  strong  heart  and  light. 

Ha !  ha !  Sir  Spider,  on  the  wall, 

How  lank  you  look  and  poor, 
We'  ve  neither  webbed  a  single  fly 

For  a  good  twelve  months  or  more. 
Yet  ho !  who  cares  ?  we  both  live  high — 

As  high  as  we  can  get — 
And  we  season  the  good  things  that  we  say 

With  the  salt  of  our  attic  wit. 

The  spider  has  fled  into  his  web, 
The  mouse,  he  scampers  away, 

And  the  dusty  office  seems  chill  and  drear, 
With  the  shadows  long  and  grey. 


SONG    OF    THE    RAGGED    ATTORNEY.  129 

What  ho,  old  moth  !  art  working  still  ? 

The  prince  of  scholars  you  be 
Toiling  away  in  your  wormy  cell 

Like  a  monk  right  steadily. 

And  now  to  fancy's  mystic  eye, 

The  mournful  twilight  teems 
With  solemn  shapes  and  dusky  forms 

From  the  dark  land  of  dreams. 
What  ho  !  start  not,  I  know  them  well, 

Brave  doctors  of  the  law — 
Each  one  in  place — quick  for  the  dance 

My  quivering  bow  I  draw. 

Ha  !  ha !  these  figures  grave  and  dusk, 

See  how  they  wheel  and  spin, 
Footing  it  up  and  shuffling  down 

To  the  merry  violin. 
Oh !  ho !  't  is  a  farcical  sight  to  see — 

Lord  Eldon,  you  alone, 
Now  forward  Coke,  and  Matthew  Hale, 

With  jolly  old  Blackstone. 

The  soldier  loves  the  flash  of  steel, 

The  sailor  loves  the  sea, 
The  forester  carols  a  merry  tune 

In  praise  of  the  greenwood  tree ; 


130  WILLIAM    HAINES    LYTLE. 

Yet  ho !  for  law,  with  scales  so  bright, 
And  the  sword  to  shield  from  harm, 

And  her  ragged  sons  who  laugh  at  care, 
With  jolly  light  hearts  and  strong. 

1845- 


THE    FAREWELL.  131 


THE  FAREWELL. 

My  bark  is  clearing  a  path  of  light 

Over  the  waters  fair, 
In  whose  crystal  depths  the  Queen  of  Night 

Is  bathing  her  golding  hair. 
Silence  and  beauty  are  throned  above, 

In  the  vaults  of  the  summer  sky, 
And  the  river  murmurs  a  tale  of  love 

To  the  stars  as  it  ripples  by. 

Tell,  fair  Moon,  if  thy  golden  eye 

My  lady-love  can  discover, 
Does  she  gaze  on  thine  orb  in  sympathy 

And  muse  on  her  distant  lover  ? 
Or  if  through  her  casement  thou  shinest  now. 

On  her  pride  in  sleep  serene, 
Strew  lightly.  Moon,  on  her  peerless  brow 

The  snow  of  thy  silver  sheen. 

Night  wind,  droop  thy  waving  wings, 

I  pray  thee  cease  to  rove, 
Till  I  burden  thy  heedless  wanderings 

With  the  precious  freight  of  love. 


132  WILLIAM    HAINES   LYTLE. 

Then  plume  thy  scented  wing  once  more, 
Thy  way  by  the  moonlight  steer, 

And  the  burning  tide  of  my  bosom  pour 
By  stealth  in  my  lady's  ear. 

Breathe  to  her,  wind,  farewell,  for  one 

Over  whose  days  she  threw 
A  ray  of  gladness  such  as  shone 

When  yet  the  world  was  new. 
Say  that  afar  his  heart  will  tell 

Of  those  bright  hours  cherished  long, 
As  the  crimson  lip  of  the  lone  sea-shell 

Murmurs  its  ocean  song. 

1846. 


GENERAL    LYTLE  S   LAST   SPEECH, 

DELIVERED  IN  CAMP  AT  BRIDGEPORT,  ALABAMA, 

AUGUST  9,  1863, 
ON   RECEIVING  A  JEWELED   MALTESE  CROSS 

FROM    THE   OFFICERS  OF 

THE  TENTH   OHIO  REGIMENT. 


The  presentation  speech,  by  Colonel  Wm.  W. 
Ward,  of  Ohio,  concluded  in  these  words : 

"We,  now,  your  old  comrades  in  arms,  wit 
nesses  of  your  conspicuous  gallantry  in  the  field ; 
witnesses,  also,  of  your  skill  in  council,  and  thor 
oughly  conversant  with  your  accurate  knowledge 
of  military  duty — present  to  '  OUR  COLONEL'  the 
cross  I  have  placed,  General,  upon  your  breast, 
knowing  as  we  all  do — and  also  anxious  to  tell 
your  dear  brothers  in  arms — gentlemen  of  whose 
gallanty  I  would  have  been  assured,  even  if  you 
had  not  told  me  of  it — that  OUR  COLONEL'S  cross 
will  be  like  the  white  plume  of  the  hero  of  Ivry 

— seek  it  where  the  fight  is  thickest." 

(i33) 


134  WILLIAM    HA1NES    LYTLE. 


GENERAL  LYTLE'S  SPEECH. 

Colonel,  and  Gentlemen  of  the  Tenth  Ohio  In 
fantry — My  old  Friends  and  Comrades : — I  can  not 
tell  you  how  deeply  I  am  touched  by  this  beauti 
ful  testimonial.  I  am  very  glad  to  learn  that,  al 
though  you  have  not  for  a  long  time  been  under 
my  command,  you  have  not  forgotten  me ;  and  I 
feel  it  also  an  especial  honor  that  you  have  taken 
the  trouble  to  visit  me  in  our  camp  in  the  moun 
tains  to  make  me  this  present  in  the  midst  of  a 
campaign,  and,  I  fear,  at  great  personal  inconven 
ience.  In  all  sincerity  I  can  say  to  you  that  never 
did  the  heart  of  a  soldier  of  the  Old  Guard  beat 
higher — no,  not  even  when  at  the  hands  of  the 
"  Little  Corporal"  himself  he  received  the  Cross 
of  the  Legion — than  does  mine  to-day.  Come 
what  may  to  me  to-morrow  or  in  days  beyond ; 
come  what  may,  as  under  the  leadership  of  our 
gallant  chief,  the  invincible  Rosecrans,  this  Army 
of  the  Cumberland  follows  his  happy  star  through 
the  eventful  drama  of  the  war,  at  least  for  me 


SPEECH    OF    GENERAL   LYTLE.  135 

this   token,  from   the   cherished   comrades   with 
whom  I  entered  the  service,  is  secure. 

So  long  as,  in  God's  providence,  my  life  is 
spared,  I  shall  look  on  it,  gentlemen,  and  be  re 
minded  of  many  a  stirring  incident,  both  in  your 
experience  and  mine.  It  will  recall  the  pale  and 
troubled  faces  with  which  men  stood  in  the  black 
shadows  that  strove  before  civil  war,  and  the 
horror  that  thrilled  our  breasts  when  the  rebellion 
first  proclaimed  itself  by  overt  acts ;  the  revered  and 
holy  flag  of  the  nation  was  fired  on  by  parricidal 
hands  at  Charleston.  It  will  bring  back  to  me  the 
fiery  and  tumultuous  gatherings  of  armed  men  that 
rallied  to  defend  the  flag.  I  will  remember,  as  I 
gaze  on  it,  a  thousand  incidents  connected  with  our 
camps  at  Harrison  and  Dennison.  It  will  remind 
me  of  the  long  and  weary  marches  when  our 
solitary  column  threaded  the  mountain  defiles  of 
West  Virginia,  of  the  memorable  8th  of  October 
at  Carnifex  Ferry,  when  your  ranks,  plowed  by 
shot  and  shell,  stood  fast  and  firm  until  the  enemy 
fell  back  across  the  Gauley  under  cover  of  the 
night,  the  movement  masked  by  darkness  and  the 
roar  of  the  mountain  stream.  It  will  remind  me 
of  the  brave  Milroy;  of  Fitzgibbon,  the  color- 


136  WILLIAM    HAINES   LYTLE. 

bearer ;  of  Kavanaugh  and  Kennedy,  of  many  a 
hero  soldier  whose  name  we  will  keep  green  in 
memory;  of  that  red  autumnal  day,  at  Chaplin 
Hills,  when  Jackson,  Terrill,  Jones  and  Campbell 
fell,  their  names  crowned  with  the  deathless  laurel, 
when,  in  your  own  brigade,  the  chivalry  of  Ohio 
and  Kentucky,  and  Indiana  and  Michigan,  added 
a  new  and  glorious  leaf  to  the  somber  annals  of 
the  Dark  and  Bloody  Ground. 

I  will  be  reminded  too,  as  I  gaze  upon  its  em 
erald  and  its  shamrock,  the  significant  emblems 
with  which  your  taste  and  the  craft  of  the  artisan 
have  enriched  it,  of  that  gallant  and  beautiful 
island  of  the  sea,  the  devotion  of  whose  children 
to  my  country  and  their  country,  has  been  so 
gloriously  manifested  in  this  hour  of  her  bitterest 
travail. 

String  with  fresh  cords  the  Irish  harp,  worn 
with  recounting  the  triumphs  of  your  race,  to 
breathe  in  new  and  yet  loftier  strains  of  minstrelsy 
their  deeds  in  arms  and  deeds  of  noble  daring 
during  this  rebellion.  Let  the  pale  cheek  of  Erin, 
as  she  watches  across  the  deep,  crimson  with  ex 
ultation  at  the  names  of  Corcoran  and  Meagher, 
and  the  record  of  your  own  gallant  regiment,  the 


SPEECH   OF    GENERAL   LYTLE.  137 

armed  witness  before  this,  your  generation,  to  the 
undying  fame  of  Richard  Montgomery. 

I  will  not  deny,  gentlemen,  that  when  on  re 
porting  to  this  department,  I  found  you  were  to 
be  no  longer  in  my  command,  I  felt  that  sense  of 
loneliness  and  isolation  natural  to  one  whose  old 
army  associations  were  broken  up.  My  present 
command  will  pardon  me  for  saying  this,  I  know, 
for,  in  my  judgment,  no  man  who  forgets  his  old 
friends  deserves  to  make  new  ones.  But  long 
since  I  have  felt  perfectly  at  home,  and  I  can  not 
let  this  the  first  occasion  that  has  presented 
itself  pass  by  without  expressing  to  the  officers 
and  men  of  the  First  Brigade  my  heartfelt 
thanks  for  the  warm  and  generous  welcome  they 
have  awarded  to  a  stranger.  Gentlemen  of  the 
Tenth  Ohio,  you  see  around  you  your  brethren 
in  arms,  the  men  of  Sheridan's  division ;  men 
from  the  North-west,  from  the  clans  of  the  peo 
ple,  who  pitch  their  tents  on  the  prairies  of  Illi 
nois  and  Michigan  and  Wisconsin,  and  by  the 
shores  of  the  great  lakes, — veterans  of  Pea  Ridge, 
Perryville,  and  Stone  River.  When  the  next 
fight  comes  on,  may  they  and  the  Old  Tenth 
stand  shoulder  to  shoulder,  and  see  by  whom,  in 


138  WILLIAM    HAINES    LYTLE. 

glorious  emulation,  our  battle-flags  into  the  ranks 
of  the  enemy  can  be  flung  the  farthest  and  fol 
lowed  the  closest.  Nor  will  it  diminish  your  in 
terest  in  this  brigade  to  tell  you  it  was  once  com 
manded  by  the  pure  and  heroic  Sill — Sill,  whom 
you  knew  so  well  last  year,  during  your  campaign 
in  Northern  Alabama.  Than  his,  the  war  has  de 
veloped  no  nobler  spirit.  The  Military  Academy 
at  West  Point  might  point  to  his  name  alone,  and 
stand  fast  in  the  affections  of  the  people.  Ohio 
in  no  braver  or  better  blood  has  sealed  her  de 
votion  to  the  Union. 

"  Him  shall  no  sunshine  from  the  field  of  azure, 
No  drum  beat  from  the  wall — 
No  morning  gun,  from  the  black  fort's  embrasure, 
Awaken  with  its  call," 

But  his  name  will  be  embalmed  in  the  praise 
of  states,  and  this,  his  old  brigade,  at  Chatta 
nooga,  or  Atlanta,  or  in  Eastern  Tennessee,  or 
wherever  its  proud  banners  flaunt  the  sky,  will 
cherish  his  memory  and  avenge  his  fall. 

But,  gentlemen,  I  know  your  time  is  limited, 
and  that  I  must  not  detain  you  too  long.  Rest 
assured  that  I  shall  follow  the  military  career  of 


SPEECH    OF    GENERAL    LYTLE.  139 

each  and  all  of  you  with  the  deepest  solicitude. 
The  third  year  of  the  war  is  upon  us.  How  fierce 
has  been  the  struggle,  our  vast  national  debt  and 
shattered  ranks  bear  witness.  Whether  the  end 
is  near  or  not,  I  can  not  tell.  The  past  months 
will  be  forever  memorable  for  the  splendid 
triumphs  of  our  arms,  and  to  the  eyes  of  hope 
the  sky  is  flushed  with  faint  light  and  the  morning 
seems  near  at  hand.  But  come  victory  or  come 
defeat,  come  triumph  or  come  disaster,  this  I 
know,  that  against  rebels  in  the  field  or  traitors  at 
home,  despite  the  plots  of  weak-kneed  and  cow 
ardly  politicians  of  the  North  and  the  machina 
tions  of  foreign  despots  and  aristocrats,  the  scarred 
and  bronzed  veterans  of  the  warlike  West,  the 
men  on  whose  banners  are  inscribed  Mill  Springs 
and  Donelson,  Pea  Ridge  and  Vicksburg,  Shiloh, 
Carnifex  and  Stone  River,  will  make  no  terms, 
accept  no  truce,  indorse  no  treaty,  until  the  mili 
tary  power  of  the  rebellion  is  crushed  forever,  and 
the  supremacy  of  the  National  Government  ac 
knowledged  from  the  Potomac  to  the  Rio  Grande. 
Am  I  told  that  Union  restored  by  force  of  arms 
is  not  worth  having  ?  Am  I  told  that  if  the  states 
now  in  revolt  are  whipped  in  fair  fight — beaten 


140  WILLIAM    HAINES    LYTLE. 

and  humiliated — they  will  be  unworthy  and  de 
graded  members  of  the  Union  ?  We  must  have 
peace  first,  says  a  certain  school  of  politicians, 
and  then,  if  we  can,  we  will  argue  the  South  into 
a  reconstruction.  In  other  words,  these  gentle 
men  would  have  the  Government  .and  the  loyal 
masses  of  the  country  drain  to  the  dregs  the  bitter 
cup  which  they  would  dash  from  the  hands  of 
traitors  and  rebels.  The  territory  you  have  oc 
cupied  is  to  be  abandoned,  the  public  property, 
the  dock-yards,  and  fortresses  you  have  re 
captured  after  two  years  of  war,  are  to  be  sur 
rendered,  the  victorious  armies  of  the  Mississippi, 
the  Cumberland,  and  the  Potomac,  followed  by 
the  jeers  and  scoffs  of  the  enemy,  are  to  sneak, 
with  arms  reversed  and  flags  trailed  in  the  dust, 
across  the  Northern  border ;  and  your  Government 
— the  Government  of  Washington,  and  Jefferson, 
and  Jackson — is  to  cower,  dishonored  and  dis 
graced,  a  byword  and  hissing  among  the  nations.  If 
the  rebel  armies  (I  will  not  say  the  rebel  States,  for 
it  is  not  against  the  States,  nor  their  constitutional 
rights,  we  wage  war),  if  the  rebel  armies,  and  the 
oligarchs  who  control  them,  have  their  pride 
broken,  and  their  prestige  humbled,  let  them 


SPEECH   OF    GENERAL   LYTLE.  141 

blame  themselves.  They  have  sown  the  wind, 
let  them  reap  the  whirlwind,  till  the  bloody  prob 
lem  is  finally  worked  out ;  eye  to  eye,  foot  to  foot, 
sword  to  sword,  bayonet  to  bayonet ;  if  need  be, 
for  ten  years  longer,  with  iron  hearts,  and  iron 
fleets,  and  iron  hail,  this  generation  of  loyal  men 
will,  by  God's  grace,  endure  its  heavy  cross,  and 
until  the  broad  daylight  of  peace  and  order  and 
victory  shall  come,  will  stand  to  arms. 

And  then  for  you,  soldiers — soldiers,  but  free 
men  and  armed  citizens  of  the  Republic — it  will 
be  for  you  to  remember  the  Roman  saying,  Vel 
pace,  vel  hello,  darum  fieri  licet "  or,  as  old  Milton 
has  paraphrased  it,  "  Peace  has  her  victories,  no 
less  renowned  than  war."  It  will  be  for  you  to 
look  to  it  that  those  arbitrary  war  measures,  justi 
fied  by  the  awful  presence  of  a  rebellion,  whose 
like  the  world  never  saw  before ;  justified  by  the 
maxim  that  "the  safety  of  the  Republic  is  the  su 
preme  law,"  die,  with  the  necessities  which  gave 
them  birth.  It  will  be  for  you  to  see  that  the 
powers  of  the  Government  are  restricted  to  their 
lawful  and  appropriate  channels ;  that  each  State 
has  its  full  and  perfect  rights  under  the  constitu 
tion,  awarded  to  it ;  and,  finally,  through  the  in- 


142  WILLIAM    HAINES    LYTLE. 

strumentality  of  the  ballot  box,  it  will  be  for  you  to 
put  the  seal  of  eternal  political  damnation  on  those 
subtle  and  designing  demagogues,  whose  disaffec 
tion  and  disloyalty  to  the  country  have  already 
prolonged  the  war,  and  to-day,  more  than  all 
other  agencies,  feed  the  unholy  fires  of  treason, 
riot  and  insurrection.  Mark  the  prediction,  that, 
when  the  war  is  over,  it  will  be  to  the  men  of 
this  human  army,  more  than  to  any  others,  that 
the  people  of  the  Southern  States  will  look  for  a 
wise,  generous,  patriotic  conservatism. 

They  will  trust  you  because  of  your  unflinch 
ing  and  unwavering  loyalty  to  your  great  cause ; 
they  will  respect  you  as  one  brave  man,  even 
though  overcome,  respects  another  with  whom 
he  has  measured  swords.  The  government  of 
Jefferson  Davis  may  flatter  the  political  apostates 
of  the  North  for  military  purposes,  but  I  much 
mistake  the  character  of  Southern  men,  if,  while 
they  hug  the  treason,  they  do  not  scorn  the  trai 
tor. 

It  will  be  for  you,  above  all  others,  when  this 
rebellion  has  spent  its  strength,  to  recall  to  the 
minds  of  the  people,  the  admonition  : 


SPEECH    OF    GENERAL    LYTLE.  143 

"  It  is  well  to  have  a  giant's  strength, 

But,  oh,  't  is  tyranny  to  use  it  like  a  giant;" 

To  heal  up  the  sores  and  scars,  and  cover  up  the 
bloody  foot-prints  that  war  will  leave ;  to  bury 
in  oblivion  all  animosities  against  your  former 
foe ;  and  chivalrous  as  you  are  brave,  standing  on 
forever  stricken  fields,  memorable  in  history,  side 
by  side  with  the  Virginian,  the  Mississippian, 
or  Alabambian,  to  carve  on  bronze  or  marble 
the  glowing  epitaph  that  tells  us  of  Southern  as 
well  as  Northern  valor . 

That  the  day  of  ultimate  triumph  for  the 
Union  arms,  sooner  or  later,  will  come,  I  do  not 
doubt,  for  I  have  faith  in  the  courage,  the  wis 
dom,  and  the  justice  of  the  people.  It  may  not 
be  for  all  of  us  here  to-day  to  listen  to  the  chants 
that  greet  the  victor,  nor  to  hear  the  brazen  bells 
ring  out  the  new  nuptials  of  the  States.  But  those 
who  do  survive  can  tell,  at  least,  to  the  people, 
how  their  old  comrades,  whether  in  the  skirmish 
or  the  charge,  before  the  rifle-pit  or  the  redan, 
died  with  their  harness  on,  in  the  great  war  for 
Union  and  Liberty. 


144  WILLIAM    HAINES    LYTLE. 


CO.  K. 

[Poem  found  in  a  pocket-book  taken  from  General 
Lytle's  pocket  when  he  lay  dead  on  the  battlefield  of 
Chickamauga.  The  authorship  is  not  known.] 

There's  a  cap  in  the  closet, 

Old,  tattered,  and  blue, 
Of  very  slight  value, 

It  may  be,  to  you  ; 
But  a  crown,  jewel-studded, 

Could  not  buy  it  to-day, 
With  its  letters  of  honor, 

Brave  "Co.  K." 

The  head  that  it  sheltered 

Needs  shelter  no  more  ! 
Dead  heroes  make  holy 

The  trifles  they  wore ; 
So,  like  chaplet  of  honor, 

Of  laurel  and  bay, 
Seems  the  cap  of  the  soldier, 

Marked  "Co.  K." 


"co.  K."  145 

Bright  eyes  have  looked  calmly 

Its  visor  beneath 
O'er  the  work  of  the  Reaper, 

Grim  Harvester,  Death! 
Let  the  muster-roll,  meager, 

So  mournfully  say, 
How  foremost  in  danger 

Went  "Co.  K." 

Whose  footsteps  unbroken 

Came  up  to  the  town, 
Where  rampart  and  bastion 

Looked  threat'ningly  down ! 
Who,  closing  up  breaches, 

Still  kept  on  their  way, 
Till  guns,  downward  pointed, 

Faced  "Co.  K?" 

Who  faltered,  or  shivered  ? 

Who  shunned  battle-stroke  ? 
Whose  fire  was  uncertain? 

Whose  battle  line  broke  ? 
Go,  ask  it  of  History, 

Years  from  to-day, 
And  the  record  shall  tell  you, 

Not  "Co.  K." 


146  WILLIAM    RAINES    LYTLE. 

Though  my  darling  is  sleeping 

To-day  with  the  dead, 
And  daisies  and  clover 

Bloom  over  his  head, 
I  smile  through  my  tears 

As  I  lay  it  away — 
That  battle-worn  cap, 

Lettered  "Co.  K." 


LAST    MARCHING   ORDER.  147 


LAST   MARCHING   ORDER. 

Below  is  printed,  from  the  original,  one  of  the  last 
orders  received  by  Brigadier-General  Lytle: 

HEAD  QUARTERS,  30  Div.,  2OTH  A.  C. 

TRENTON,  GEORGIA,  Sept.  6,  1863. 
ORDERS, — 

This  Division  will  resume  the  march  this  morning  in 
the  following  order: 

1.  2d  Brigade,  Col.  B.  Laiboldt. 

2.  3d       "  "    L.  P.  Bradley. 

3.  ist      "  Genl.  W.  H.  Lytle. 

4.  Ammunition  Train. 

5.  Ambulance          " 

6.  Brigade  trains  in  the  order  of  their  Brigades. 

7.  Division  Supply  Train. 

Genl.  Lytle  will  detail  one  regiment  of  his  command 
to  act  as  rear  guard. 

Col.  Bradley  will  move  his  Brigade  at  12  o'c.,  to  be 
followed  immediately  by  the  Brigade  of  Genl.  Lytle. 

By  command  of  MAJ.-GENL.  SHERIDAN. 

GEO.  LEE,  Captain  and  A.  A.  G. 
To  BRIG. -GENL.  LYTLE,  Command'g  ist  Brigade. 


LYTLE'S    LAST   ORDER   TO   HIS  BRIGADE. 

To  this  memorial  collection  may  appropriately  be 
added  the  last  written  words  of  General  Lytle,  hastily 
penciled  on  the  back  of  the  foregoing  order,  and  a.  fac 
simile  of  which  occupies  these  final  pages.  The  hu 
mane  and  beautiful  sentences  here  reproduced,  consti 
tute  the  last  order  of  a  loved  and  honored  commander 
to  his  heroic  followers. 

The  Memorial  closes  with  extracts  from  the  Official 
Reports  of  the  Battle  of  Chickamauga. 


148  GENERAL    LYTLE'S  LAST  WRITTEN  ORDER. 


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GENERAL  LYTLE's  LAST  WRITTEN  ORDER.    149 


EXTRACTS    FROM    OFFICIAL    REPORTS. 

From  Maj.-Gen.  W.  S.  Rosecrans'  Report  of  the  Battle 
of  Chickamauga,  September  20, 1863. 

"As  Brigadier  General  WM.  H.  LYTLE  fell  in  lead 
ing  a  gallant  charge  against  the  foe,  advancing  on  our 
retreating  troops,  I  may  be  excused  for  departing  from 
the  strict  rule  of  mentioning  only  those  officers  whose 
good  conduct  could  be  properly  officially  noticed  by  the 
general  commanding. 

••  This  brave  and  generous  young  officer,  whose  first 
wounds  were  received  while  fighting  under  my  command 
at  Carnifex  Ferry,  (where  he  fell  desperately  wounded 
at  the  head  of  his  regiment),  was  also  badly  wounded 
and  taken  prisoner  at  the  battle  of  Perryville,  where  he 
repelled  a  desperate  onslaught  of  the  enemy. 

"  On  rejoining  the  Army  of  the  Cumberland,  with  his 
well-earned  rank  of  Brigadier  General,  he  was  assigned 
second  in  command  to  General  SHERIDAN.  When  he 
fell  gloriously  on  the  field  of  Chickamauga,  Ohio  lost 
one  of  her  brightest  jewels,  and  the  service  one  of  its 
most  patriotic  and  promising  general  officers." 


From   Maj.-Gen.  P.  H.  Sheridan's    Official  Report. 
HEADQUARTERS  DEPARTMENT  OF  CUMBERLAND. 
"Among  the  killed  early  in  the  engagement  of  the  2otn 
was  Brigadier  General  W.  H.  LYTLE,  who  was  three 
times  wounded  but  refused  to  leave  the  field.     In  him 
the  country  has  lost  an  able  general,  and  the  service  a 
gallant  soldier. 

From  the  Report  of  Colonel  Silas  Miller,  -who,  as 

Senior  Colonel,  succeeded  General  Lytle  in 

the  command  of  his  Brigade. 

"  While  rallying  the  men  to  the  formation  of  this  line, 
our  gallant,  noble  and  beloved  commander  fell. 

"Twice  or  three  times  wounded  previously  during  this 
action,  he  had  persistently  refused  to  leave  the  field,  gal 
lantly  doing  more  than  his  duty  to  the  men  he  loved,  and 
who  worshiped  him,  he  sacrificed  himself  without  reluct 
ance. 

"  No  words  or  eulogies  can  add  any  luster  to  his 
deeds  of  heroic  daring,  or  render  more  honored  or 
revered  among  men  the  name  and  memory  of  WILL 
IAM  HAINKS  LYTLE." 


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